


Kinship

by SweetSerenity



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Comfort/Angst, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Friendship, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-05-20 21:57:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 35,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14902772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetSerenity/pseuds/SweetSerenity
Summary: After the war, Hermione Granger receives some shocking news about her real parentage. The ties of kinship, old and new, help her through it.





	1. Chapter 1

Hermione gestured to the plump orange armchair on the other side of the desk. ‘Take a seat,’ she said imperiously.

Theodore Nott eyed the chair sceptically. ‘I think I’ll stand. I know better than to sit on anything owned by the Weasley twins.’

Hermione opened her mouth to correct him but stopped short. George would be more upset at the correction than the slip-up, and he wasn’t listening anyway. Probably. She had extracted a promise not to eavesdrop from him when she had asked to use his office for the meeting, and she hoped a combination of honour and the fear of her wrath would make him keep that promise.

‘Suit yourself,’ she replied. ‘This meeting should be brief. Thank you for coming.’

He met her eyes squarely. ‘A mysterious summons from Potter’s golden girl to meet at a joke shop under the cover of darkness? I wouldn’t miss that for the world.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘It’s barely even dark yet, I just wanted to wait until the shop was closed.’

She slid a manila folder over the desk. ‘I’ve sent a copy of this to your lawyer. He’ll tell you it’s all above board. You just need to sign and return it within the week.’

He picked up the folder and skimmed through it.

‘Hermione Granger bequeaths you… what the hell is this?’ he demanded.

Hermione sighed. ‘You can’t just sign the paper, no questions asked?’

‘Explain,’ he said through gritted teeth.

‘I received a letter from a lawyer a few months ago. It turns out that your mother had an affair after you were born.’

‘You expect me to believe you’re my long-lost sister?’

‘Half-sister,’ she corrected him. Hermione slid a second folder over to him. ‘Birth certificate and DNA test.’

He flipped through the documents calmly, but his shock was obvious when he reached the birth certificate. ‘He’s really your father?’

‘Yes,’ she answered.

He doubled over laughing.

‘I know. That was my reaction too. It was either laugh or…’

Her voice wavered slightly, and he straightened up to give her a sharp look. ‘Did Snape know about this? That he was your father?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘After your mother’s death no one in the entire world knew about it. She left magically sealed instructions with the lawyer, but he had no idea what they were, just froze the assets discreetly. He probably assumed she wanted them kept out of your father’s hands. They were released upon his death.’

She coughed, and slid the first folder closer to him. ‘Anyway, this is a standard deed of gift contract to return them to you. Just sign it.’

There was a pause as she tried to stare him down, willing him to match her casual attitude.

‘You look like a mess. That shirt is practically a rag. The press implied you were living off Potter’s charity, and I can’t see any signs to the contrary.’ His words were harsh, but his tone was perfectly neutral.

‘Your point?’ she asked through gritted teeth.

‘I’m not going to take money from someone that looks like a pauper.’

‘I don’t want it.’

He slid the folder back to her side of the desk. ‘She left it for you. Adopted or not, it’s yours. I already have my own fortune. This is a pittance compared to that. A few galleons and a cabin in the woods.’

‘Not adopted,’ Hermione whispered. ‘She messed around with their memories and foisted a baby on them. She violated their minds. I want nothing to do with her.’

Theodore gave her a condescending look. ‘You think I’m proud of my father? He was a genuine monster.  But I’m not going to throw away my mansion or my vault. I’m the son of a Death Eater. No one in their right minds would hire me, and I have to survive somehow. I’m betting you would find it difficult to get a job with the paparazzi following you around. Be practical, take the money. You clearly need it.’

‘I told you, I don’t want it,’ Hermione said.

‘Neither do I. Do what you want with it.’

Hermione looked at him thoughtfully. ‘I think you’re bluffing.’

‘Bluffing?’ he echoed.

‘Your mother died when you were a baby. I know a thing or two about orphans. This “pittance” means a lot to you. It’s the last piece left of the mother you never knew.’

He didn’t respond.

‘I feel nothing but rage for your mother. If you won’t take it, I’ll have it burned to the ground. The cabin, the vault, everything. I’ve had some practice with Fiendfyre. There will be nothing left but ashes.’

He grabbed the folder, signed the paper, and then walked out the door.

‘Thank you,’ Hermione whispered, leaning back in her chair in relief.

 She walked through the door and up the stairs at a deliberately slow pace. Every instinct in her body screamed at her to run. Had been screaming the same thing for as long as she could remember. Before the letter, before the war, before Hogwarts even. The difference was that when she was an eleven-year-old girl she had been running towards something rather than away. She had thirsted for more knowledge, for more magic, for more friendship. The looks of scorn from her classmates as she waved her hand in the air had warned her to slow down, but she would not be held back by anything. Maybe she should stop holding herself back, denying her instincts. She could redirect them, and run with a greater purpose than just to escape from her pain.

 She ran up the last few steps to the library and pushed the heavy wooden door open, the force of her momentum making it almost effortless. She paused on the threshold. Harry was curled up on the corner of the couch, glasses askew, blanket halfway on the floor, lightly snoring. He had clearly been waiting up for her- the library wasn’t exactly his favourite hangout spot. Hermione smiled. She treaded softly over to the couch, slid in next to Harry and spread the blanket out over both of them. Tomorrow, she would start her race. Today, she would bask in the glow of friendship. It had always given her strength, ever since that fight with the troll. And she had a feeling she could use all the strength she could get.

_Two Months Earlier_

Hermione thrust the letter into the fireplace and watched it burn. She watched as it shrivelled and twisted into an unrecognisable shape, as it slowly faded into ashes, word by word. She grabbed her wand and her bag, walked out the front door, and apparated to The Leaky Cauldron.

She nursed her first glass in silence, with a light notice-me-not ward cast over the table. When she had first entered, she had only noticed the bar and the empty table, and everything else had seemed like white noise. Now, with her feelings dulled ever-so-slightly, she had enough curiosity to give the rest of the bar a glance. Her eyes were caught by a splash of white that seemed out of place in the gloomy room. Draco Malfoy was sitting alone in the corner. His eyes met hers. To remain unaffected by the notice-me-not, either he was particularly alert or he had noticed her before she cast the spell. Perhaps she should have stolen Harry’s invisibility cloak. But as she and Malfoy had a silent staring contest, she realised that it was almost a relief to be seen. And she recognised the same feeling in him- it was all over his face, no bluffing, and no mask. She swirled her glass around a few times and watched the firewhiskey dance in the light. She had planned to get so drunk she couldn’t feel anymore. She had never been drunk before, but of course she had read enough to know how it worked.  But she could have done that at Grimmauld Place, or in a field in the middle of nowhere. She needed more. She stood up and walked out the door. She waited outside, not sure whether to hope that her signal worked or failed. She only counted to five before Malfoy appeared.

‘I know a place,’ she said simply, her wand held loosely at her side. There was a dare in her eyes. He could place himself at her mercy, let her apparate them to who-knows-where, or he could leave. He nodded. She wasn’t sure if he trusted her good nature, or if he simply didn’t care what happened to him anymore. She touched his shoulder lightly and then they were gone.

They landed lightly on the soft grass. He looked around at the clearing with surprise, but not alarm. So it was trust then. For a moment, she resented that she was the kind of person to inspire such easy faith, that he wouldn’t accuse her of a nefarious motive for even a moment. But then she dismissed the thought as melodramatic and pointless. Either he didn’t know her at all, or he knew her all too well. It didn’t matter.

She made the first move. A hard and fast kiss, another dare. He accepted it. They kissed in the middle of the clearing, surrounded by open air, exposed. Their lips met over and over, nails scratched over skin, and they explored each other boldly. When the fury died down, Hermione conjured a blanket, and they ended the night with a gentler passion. When it was over, Hermione abruptly dissolved the blanket into nothing, and apparated away.


	2. Badgers and Best Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione spends some quality time with her best friends.

They sat leaning against a tree, watching Teddy chase after his new puppy, the two of them sending the autumn leaves flying across Andromeda’s backyard. Hermione plucked one out of the air and smoothed it out.

‘So…’ she began, and then lapsed back into silence.

‘So…’ Harry repeated.

She started folding the leaf smaller and smaller.

‘He signed the contract,’ she said.

Harry waited a few minutes for a longer explanation.

‘What did he say?’ he coaxed.

‘Things,’ she replied.

Harry groaned and lay down on the grass, thumping his head on the ground. ‘Hermione,’ he complained. ‘This is usually the other way around. I refuse to talk about my problems, and you badger me until I give in.’

That brought out a weak laugh. ‘I don’t know Harry, you can be awfully badger-like sometimes. Maybe you should have been sorted into Hufflepuff.

‘With their Quidditch team?’ he scoffed.

‘But really,’ Hermione continued. ‘All my badgering ever got was an outburst of temper. Then you’d come to me with your tail between your legs when things reached crisis levels.’

‘Do badgers have tails?’ Harry wondered. He was rewarded with a genuine laugh.

‘If I promise to listen to your superior wisdom next time, will you tell me how the meeting went?’ Harry asked.

Hermione sighed. ‘He didn’t want to take the property back, until I pushed. He seemed like he could care, a little bit, if I let him.’

‘Will you?’

‘I don’t think I want to,’ she confessed. ‘It would be easier if he didn’t. Lucretia Nott and Severus Snape are dead. I can feel however I want about them. But he’s a living, breathing person.’

‘Your brother,’ Harry said.

‘I don’t know how to be a sister,’ she whispered.

‘Of course you do,’ Harry insisted, squeezing her hand.

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘But it’s not the same, not really. Things between us always felt natural to me, but this…’

‘If you need expert advice, you can ask Ginny. Starting with the Bat-Bogey Hex, considering he’s a snake.’

Hermione waved her hand. ‘No need, she taught me that years ago, in case you or Ron stepped out of line.’

‘But you never used it, did you?’

‘No. I wanted my own personal brand of wrath.’

Harry shuddered, clearly remembering her little birds.

They both looked quickly over at Teddy when they heard a shriek, but relaxed when they saw it was just a reaction to puppy slobber.

‘Alright Teddy, time for your nap,’ Harry said as he disentangled the boy from the pup, lifting him into his arms.

Teddy yawned. ‘Can you tell me a bed-time story ‘Mione?’ he asked, looking at her with pleading eyes and a pout over Harry’s shoulder.

‘Of course,’ she promised. ‘How about the story of the grumpy badger?’ she asked slyly.

‘Will you tell us if badgers have tails?’ Harry asked, matching Teddy’s expression exactly, assisted by the way Teddy changed his hair to a messy black.

‘Tail! Tail!’ Teddy shrieked.

‘You’ll have to wait and see,’ Hermione said with a wink.

 

Later that night Hermione knocked on the door of the Burrow, smiling as she listened to the sound of the chaos inside. She could make out a squabble between Ron and Ginny, and a shout of ‘George Weasley!’ from Molly. The door was warded to let her in without a key, and if she travelled via floo she would have been spat out into the kitchen without warning. But there was something about the ritual of knocking on the door that appealed to her, a chance to pause, to take it all in. She suspected that Molly enjoyed the tradition too, despite her protests that family didn’t need to stand on ceremony in her house. It gave Molly more chance to fuss as she bustled her in out of the cold.

When she walked in Ron and Ginny were glaring at each other from opposite ends of the room, and George was scrubbing away at some orange slime on the kitchen floor. Percy and Arthur were huddled over a newspaper, oblivious to the antics around them.

‘Hermione!’ Ginny ran over to give her a hug. ‘Thank god you’re here. You can tell Ron how ridiculous his hair looks.’ Hermione obligingly looked at Ron’s hair. She was speechless for a long moment.

‘See!’ Ginny shouted.

‘It’s just a bit of a shock,’ Hermione said. ‘Your old colour was so distinctive.’

Ron’s hair was now a shade of light brown that matched his freckles, and he had spiked up the front with a generous helping of gel.

Ron shrugged. ‘I just felt like a change.’

Ginny rolled her eyes. ‘Well, I’m off to meet my hunky date. Was he wearing a tie?’

‘Yes,’  Hermione said. ‘And you had better appreciate it. It took an hour to teach him how to tie it the muggle way. I was afraid to show him the spell in case he choked himself to death.’

Ginny cackled. ‘Can’t have romance without a little pain. These heels are crushing my poor feet.’

Hermione pointed her wand at them and cast a spell.

Ginny gasped. ‘That’s brilliant!’ She twirled around, her dress swishing around in a circle. ‘I love you!’ She gave Hermione another hug. ‘Anyway, I’ve gotta go, I’m already ten minutes late. Let’s meet for coffee tomorrow.’ With that, she pranced out the door.

‘Dinner’s ready!’ Molly called out, and Hermione settled in for a feast.

Molly had shooed her out of the kitchen after refusing to accept her help with the dishes.

Ron called out to her, ‘Up for a game of chess?’

She moved a knight across the board and took out his pawn. She looked for his reaction, and cursed when she saw a smile. He took out her knight with his queen.

‘Harry told me Nott signed the contract,’ Ron said, his eyes on the board.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘But I think I should see him again, at least once. To clear the air.’

She suspected his seemingly vulnerable knight of being a trap, so she moved her castle in the opposite direction.

‘What do you really think of my hair?’ Ron asked.

The serious tone of his voice told her to answer honestly this time. ‘It looks nice, aesthetically. But it doesn’t look like you. You don’t feel comfortable, and it shows. You might grow into it if you give it some time.’

He nodded. ‘It seems to drive Ginny crazy, so I’ll keep it like this for a few more days, and then turn it back to normal.’

‘Good,’ Hermione said. ‘I really hate it.’

Ron laughed. ‘Nott won’t know what hit him. Just make sure you keep the upper hand. Don’t let him manipulate you with any Slytherin tricks.’

‘I won’t.’ Although now that she thought about it, had she already been manipulated? Maybe he had wanted his mother’s money all along, and he just made those snarky comments about her supposed poverty to trigger her pride. But that was paranoia. The problem was that she knew next to nothing about him.

Ron stretched and leaned back in his chair, and she realised he had check-mated her while she was distracted. ‘There’s no need to rush things. He isn’t going anywhere.’

She could hear the worry in his voice, though he tried to act casual. He had seen her reaction to the revelation of her biological parents, and it hadn’t been pretty. Dark as that time was, the one good thing to come out of it was the saving of their friendship.

They had an intense romance for about two weeks after the war. In hindsight, she thought they were probably overcompensating for something that was missing. But chemistry they had in abundance. The wrong kind of chemistry, where two chemicals exploded on contact. They had lost their tempers over something foolish one day, and it escalated into a rehashing of every little argument they had ever had. They broke up, and didn’t speak for a week. But when Harry told him about the letter, he had been there in a flash. He had stayed with them at Grimmauld Place for a few days whilst she bounced between depression and rage. It had brought them closer. The ending of their short-lived romance made their friendship more honest. She hadn’t realised how exhausting it was to have a crush on Ron until it disappeared. Without all the tension and jealousy she could just enjoy herself in his company again.

Ron had wanted to be needed, and she really had needed him for a while. She wondered if Theodore Nott felt the same way. He had been polished and cold yesterday, but there had been something else behind the mask. She could feel herself getting too caught up in the mystery, too invested in the answer. Maybe if she held back for a while, she could get her emotions under control before confronting him again.

‘I’ll be busy for a while anyway,’ Hermione said. ‘I’ve decided to study for my N.E.W.Ts and take the first test in July.’

‘Decided? I thought that was always your plan. Finish N.E.W.Ts, conquer the world.’

‘For a while I wasn’t so sure. In the back of my mind I knew I would need to take the N.E.W.Ts, but I couldn’t bring myself to care much about it. I lost my ambition.’

‘We all did,’ Ron said. ‘I think it’s fair enough to take a break after winning a war.’

‘Something Nott said just made me feel a little ashamed about it. Like I’d given up.’ The accusation that she was scrounging off Harry hadn’t bothered her. She and Harry were so far beyond things like that now that it seemed silly. But the implication behind it, that she was hiding away from the world…

‘Screw him,’ Ron said angrily. ‘What has he been up to in his fancy mansion? Probably spends all his time napping. If he talks to you like that again, give him a good Bat-Bogey Hex.’

Hermione laughed. ‘Harry said the same thing.’

Hermione and Ron nearly jumped out of their skins when George chimed in. ‘I’ll give you anything you want from the joke shop if you promise to use it on Nott. Slytherin discount.’

‘Were you eavesdropping?’ Hermione asked.

‘Yes,’ he said unabashedly. ‘And I for one think your hair looks darling Ronniekins.’

Ron glared at him.

‘What you need is some intel. Some reconnaissance,’ George suggested. ‘Oi, Percy!’ he called.

Percy emerged from the kitchen with a long-suffering sigh. ‘Yes?’

‘Hermione needs the scoop on Nott. Can you find anything out at the Ministry?’ George asked.

Percy was working in a junior position in Kingsley’s office. He couldn’t resist the occasional pompous bragging, but it was more sincere this time around. Hermione admired his enthusiasm for rebuilding the Wizarding World. It reminded her of her old S.P.E.W idealism. She felt too jaded these days to get involved in politics, but it was nice to see that Percy didn’t.

Percy looked at her squarely. ‘I already ran some checks, when I first found out he was your brother. No major dirt, no alarm bells. I can find out more if you want, but I thought you would only care about the important stuff, not silly gossip.’

Hermione considered it for a moment. She did have an urge to find out every little detail, to arm herself with as much information as she could. She couldn’t afford to be naïve. But Percy’s faith in her made her feel a little guilty about that urge. ‘Thanks. Use your discretion. If you find something really bad, tell me.  I don’t need to know his favourite brand of ice cream.’

That led to a lively debate on whether the favoured ice cream flavour among Slytherins was ‘Menacing Mint’ or ‘Slime Surprise’. By the end of it Hermione found herself yawning.

She stood up as Molly entered the room. ‘Thanks for the dinner Molly, but I think I should be heading home.’

She went around the room to say her goodbyes and give each Weasley a hug. When she got to Ron she whispered a hint of where he could find a spell to turn George’s skin purple. If the spell just happened to be in one of the N.E.W.T level transfiguration textbooks, that was a complete coincidence. She had noticed that he hadn’t mentioned his own plans when she brought up the N.E.W.Ts. There would be time enough for pushing and nagging later, but hopefully he would reach the right decision on his own. A she hugged George, she told him she had a proposition for him that she would send via owl, then walked away with an evil smile as he tried to work out what it could be.

 She left by the front door again. When she was halfway to the apparition point, she turned around for one last look at the Burrow. That was something else to add to her new list of ambitions. It wasn’t a goal so much as a vague hope, of building a place for herself one day that gave her that warm feeling of home.

When she arrived at Grimmauld Place she could hear Harry and Ginny laughing in the downstairs lounge room. She covered her eyes and shouted loudly, ‘I’ll be upstairs with a silencing charm on my room, so if Molly ever asks I have plausible deniability. Have fun!’ It looked like she and Ginny would be sharing that coffee over the breakfast table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Send me your suggestions for Theodore Nott's real favourite ice cream flavour. I might slip the best answer into a future chapter. Thanks for reading!


	3. Honour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione has lunch with her brother.

Hermione poked the pastry Valerie had brought her gingerly, bracing for an explosion or fart noises. Valerie seemed nice enough, but it took a special kind of person to apply for a job at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. Her hunger eventually made her brave enough try a bite, and she was pleasantly surprised when her only reaction was a moan of delight. Valerie was clearly an angel. If the pastry turned her hair green, it would be completely worth it. She wiped a few crumbs off her notebook and returned to her practice essay on the use of unicorn hair in potions. George had been amused by her request to use his office to study for her N.E.W.Ts. He had extorted three hours of assistance creating his new voice-changing potions in return, but Hermione thought he was secretly glad of the company. He didn’t spend much time in the office, but when he was there he was surprisingly serious about his work, and they worked on their respective tasks in companionable silence. Hermione had decided that the dark and musty library at Grimmauld Place wasn’t exactly ideal for studying. It was too quiet and the blood-purity-or-death vibes were a little distracting. The laughter and loud bangs echoing through the joke shop reminded her of Hogwarts, without all the baggage carried by the real thing.  She half-expected Ron to come beg for her help with an essay.

When she looked up from her book to see Theodore Nott standing on the other side of the desk, it almost felt natural. They had barely interacted at Hogwarts, but there had been a few times when their paths had crossed at the library. She remembered in third year he had once asked for a book she had left discarded on the table. Not in a friendly or derisive way, just with a matter-of-fact attitude, making a simple request within the bounds of library etiquette. Of course, after Voldemort’s resurrection, no Slytherin would ever risk making such a polite request of a Muggle-born in public.

‘Are you working here now?’ Theodore asked. ‘It looks even worse in the daylight. Like a litter of pygmy puffs exploded in here.’

‘I like it,’ Hermione insisted. As she said it, she was surprised to discover it was true. The room had cosy lived-in armchairs instead of stiff desk chairs. Bright shades of orange, pink and green clashed in ridiculous ways. Every inch of surface was filled with little toys and curiosities. It was a room designed by people who were passionate about fun and comfort. It reminded her of the Burrow or the Gryffindor common room, but without any limits or sense of propriety. Much better than Grimmauld Place, so traditional and fancy and horrid. But she supposed Theodore Nott had grown up in a place like that. She cut off that thought before it could lead down a dark path.

‘To what do I owe the honour of your presence?’ she asked with a little too much bite.

‘Have you had lunch?’ he asked. ‘There’s a nice Italian place down the street.’

‘No,’ she lied, resisting the urge to glance at the pastry crumbs in the bin.

 

Twenty minutes later they were seated at the restaurant waiting for their food. They had only exchanged the bare minimum amount of words necessary to find a table and place their order.

‘This place had a really nice review in the Prophet,’ Hermione said.

‘Your name hasn’t been in the papers much lately. Why is that?’ Theodore asked.

Hermione remembered the double spread in the Daily Prophet a few days ago, ranking which of the Death Eater progeny was most likely to become the next Dark Lord. She had tossed it aside without reading it. ‘I have an arrangement with the press. They don’t print any unsubstantiated gossip about me, and I don’t go digging through their journalists’ murky ethical practices. There’s enough dirt out there to take half of their staff down.’

‘Then why hasn’t anyone gone after them yet? They’ve pissed off some pretty powerful people in the past.’

‘People with reputations to protect. For some baffling reason, wizards love the Daily Prophet. Neither “reformed” Death Eaters nor heroes of the light could afford to be seen attacking the press. The public would crucify them. I, on the other hand, have no particular need to stay in society’s good graces.’

‘So you’re blackmailing them.’

‘Only to stop them printing anything untrue. If they can prove it, they can print it. I honour my word and they honour theirs.’

Prove was the operative word. She wasn’t exactly being discreet meeting with her long-lost brother in a public restaurant, but even if they discovered the truth they would need evidence, and Lucretia Nott had covered her tracks well. It would become public knowledge eventually, but right now she was enjoying the calm before the storm.

Theodore rolled his eyes at the word ‘honour’.

‘Or if you’d prefer the Slytherin translation, we can call it mutually assured destruction.’

He laughed. ‘So you speak Slytherin?’

‘No,’ she said quietly. ‘Harry’s the one with the talent for parseltongue. I’ve just read a lot of Muggle books. Politics, ethics, philosophy. The libraries of the Wizarding World are somewhat lacking in that department. Not surprising, really.’

‘Do you have any books to recommend?’ he asked.

‘Sure,’ she said with a challenge in her eyes. ‘I’ll send you a list.’ She stared him down, waiting to see if he would baulk at the thought of being expected to go out and find a Muggle book for himself. He just sipped his glass of wine calmly.

‘Are you taking your N.E.W.Ts in May?’ Hermione asked, referring to the first of many special sessions to be held for the senior classes affected by the war.

‘Yes,’ he said.

‘We could study together sometime,’ she suggested.

‘Sure, if you think you can keep up with me.’ She chose not to dignify that with a response. She had always suspected he was smart from their shared classes, but beyond that she knew nothing about his academic talents. Their study session could be illuminating.

They ate their meal leisurely, making small talk about the quality of the food. When they were finished Theodore ordered another glass of wine. Hermione considered him thoughtfully.  ‘What is it that you want to ask me?’

He tapped his fingers against the table. ‘What makes you think I have a question?’

‘You’ve been trying too hard to stay on my good side. I’ve given you a few openings for a snarky comment and you’ve ignored them. That makes me suspect you have a big strike prepared.’

He went to take another sip of his wine and checked himself when he remembered it was empty. She predicted that he would regret that act of weakness and try to re-establish his confidence with a bold question.

‘Do you want to acknowledge your parentage?’

‘Yes,’ she said firmly. ‘I want to acknowledge the Grangers as my parents. As for anyone else, there’s nothing to acknowledge. They made their decisions and I’m sure if they had the chance they would disown me from beyond the grave.’

‘But did they really…’

‘The letter your mother left was very clear. Leaving me that property in her will wasn’t some kind of gesture of love. It was a bribe to protect her name, and she had only negative feelings about my existence.’

‘I can believe that,’ Theodore said. ‘I didn’t know her, but that is the Pureblood way of doing things. What about Snape? Potter shouted from the rooftops about his soul full of unicorns and rainbows after the war.’

She turned her head away to look out the window.

‘He disliked me. Not just in a distant house-rivalry way, or because of blood purity. He really disliked me on a personal level, from the day we met. I’m glad he never knew the truth.’

After that they both chatted about Quidditch teams and politicians for a little while, without really listening to any of the actual words they were saying. Hermione wanted to be alone, but their relationship was too fragile to leave things on a bad note. As they stood up to leave, she realised it would take more than a few fake pleasantries.

‘I won’t acknowledge them, but that has nothing to do with you. You’re my brother, and I won’t try to deny that.’

He just nodded, and reminded her about her promise to send him a list of book recommendations.

 

Later that night, Hermione walked into one of the empty rooms at Grimmauld Place, holding a jar.

‘ _Aduro_ ,’ Hermione whispered. A little bluebell flame appeared in the jar, flickering gently. She stared at it as though hypnotised for a few moments, then whispered the spell to extinguish it.

‘ _Aduro_ ’. Again. ‘ _Aduro_ ’.

She repeated the pattern until her voice became hoarse. She gave in when she almost set fire to the curtain, but managed to correct her mistake with only a small scorch mark to show for it.

She put her wand away with a sigh.

The problem was that she was filled with anger, but there was nowhere to direct it. Lucretia Nott was dead. Thoros Nott was dead. Snape was dead. Voldemort was dead. Theodore Nott was innocent- well, he was a Slytherin, so he probably wasn’t entirely free of sin. No one was these days. But he had no part in the volatile emotions eating her up inside. She needed a way to vent her feelings, one that wouldn’t result in burning her home down to the ground. She had been so proud when she learnt that spell. She had sent the Grangers a ten page letter that day, and they had sent back fifteen. Even in her darkest, most dramatic moments, she hadn’t been able to convince herself that they were capable of hating her. They had loved her. They had been good people. If they had known the truth it would have broken their hearts, but they were so good that they would have loved her anyway, even through the shock and horror. She wondered if Lucretia Nott had known that, had taken advantage of it. Or had she not cared at all? Was it just luck? She had no way of knowing. Sometimes she was glad that the Grangers didn’t have to be told, that they already knew they had never had a daughter. And yet if she had the chance she would take it all back, come what may. She would take it back. She didn’t want to be her mother’s daughter, in that way or any other.

She thought about the sins of the parents for a while, then picked up a pen. She knew a very effective way to vent, a perfect distraction. But last time they had connected over their shared misery. What if that was no longer the case? What if he was happy now? She found it hard to imagine what happiness looked like for Draco Malfoy, but it was possible. And then he would have the upper hand. He could look at her note with haughty condescension and send back a humiliating rejection. She paced across the room, tapping the pen against her cheek. Now she had to know. It wasn’t just about venting anymore, it was a burning curiosity. It had been two months since their last encounter and she couldn’t even imagine what his life was like. She scribbled a short missive and sent it off with her owl. Then she sat in the dark wishing she could call it back.

_Malfoy,_

_Holt’s Bar, opposite the Diagon Alley entrance, at 7pm on Friday._

_-HG_


	4. Seduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione meets Draco Malfoy at a bar.

Hermione sat by the bar, sipping from her glass of coke. She would need all her wits about her for this meeting. She had arrived half an hour early, and she was determined not to look towards the door. Ron had advised her to keep the upper hand with Theodore, but she figured it worked well as general advice for dealing with any Slytherin. Of course she could never mention her current use of that advice to Ron or his head might explode. She had taken a risk in sending her note to Malfoy, but now that she had she wasn’t going to expose any more vulnerability or weakness. He would have to step out of his comfort zone to meet her in this Muggle bar, and he would have to make the first move. If he didn’t show up, it would be his loss. She would just have to think of a Plan B. Maybe she could take some boxing lessons, or learn to ride a motorcycle.

She ordered a bowl of chips as a distraction from her nerves. Time ticked by, as she ran a silent countdown in her head. Fifteen minutes. Ten minutes. Five minutes. Exactly two minutes before 7pm she felt a tap on her shoulder. She watched Malfoy settle onto the stool next to hers, and slid her bowl of fries over to him. She was desperately delaying the moment where she would have to speak, because now that he was here in front of her, she had no idea what to say. What on earth could she, Hermione Granger, talk about with Draco Malfoy in a Muggle bar? They had barely spoken a dozen words between them last time. It had been oddly freeing. But now, sitting in silence once again, she just felt like a silly mime.

It seemed he wasn’t feeling chatty today either. Well, she was a Gryffindor. She would be the brave one. ‘Do you want a drink?’ she asked.

‘No.’

She swivelled her stool around and pretended to watch the football game on the TV in the corner. So much for letting Malfoy make the first move. She had wondered what that move would be, but she had never considered that he would choose nothing. It seemed he hadn’t gotten her script. Or any script. Why had he even bothered to show up?

‘You know, Muggle football is a bit like Quidditch on the ground.’

‘Hmm.’

Progress. ‘I’m going for a walk,’ she declared, draining her glass. She had been sitting in this dingy bar for entirely too long, and it did not improve with time. She stood up without waiting for his reply and strode out the door at a leisurely pace. He caught up with her easily and then they were walking side-by-side, out the door and onto the street. The footpath glowed under the streetlamps, and they were surrounded by the sounds of laughter and friends calling out to each other. They walked on, Hermione choosing a direction at random. This wasn’t working. She had never really had much practice at seduction. Cormac McLaggen had been incredibly easy to hook, but much harder to shake off. If she kept walking, eventually a scheme would come to her.

She was debating the merits of a fake wardrobe mishap when she heard a scuffle as Malfoy tripped over a crack in the pavement. She glanced in his direction instinctively at the noise, then stopped to look at him properly for the first time that night. It was still there, that same connection they had two months ago. _See me_ , his eyes had begged. And she had been sending out the opposite message, _Don’t look, don’t watch me fall apart_. But that shared pain she could see in him had somehow smoothed out the edges, made it easier to handle, less sharp. Like it was reflected back to her in better lighting, and the pain didn’t seem so scary anymore. She could feel it and go on breathing. Over time, she had let the memory of that night fade away, because she had wanted to be strong and fearless, untouchable. But now the memory was back, and she could have kicked herself for letting it slip away. She had been strong in her vulnerability, not weak. And tonight, he had walked into the bar, and she had looked away, made him into a vague and shadowy figure in the distance to protect herself. She hadn’t seen him.

She reached out a hand to cup his face, and hold his gaze on hers, with a touch more gentle than any they had shared in their night of passion. _I see you_ , she thought.

He was wearing a crisp white shirt with a collar, and shiny black slacks. Passable Muggle clothing, but a bit too stiff and unworn. The colour scheme made his skin seem paler, and his hair brighter. He looked a bit sickly, as though he hadn’t seen sunlight in a while. There were dark circles under his eyes. As she stared into his eyes, taking his measure, she could see that the inside was more damaged than the outside. In the past two months she had changed for the better.  She had slowly built up her courage in order to confront Theodore, and then afterwards she had been able to let go of some of that tension, to feel normal again. She still had her anger and her regret, but she could live her life around it. Whatever Malfoy had been doing since their last encounter, it wasn’t living. Giving into an impulse, she leaned forward and let her lips meet his. It was a slow and light kiss. She felt like she was trying to give him the kiss of life, like performing mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. She pulled away, feeling ridiculous. She resisted the urge to look away again, and saw him blink in confusion. She decided to act as though nothing had happened.

‘It’s so chilly out here. There’s a café down the street that opens late. Let’s go get some hot chocolate, okay?’

She kept up a stream of inane chatter as they continued down the street, explaining some of the buildings around them. He gave monosyllabic replies in return, but he kept walking next to her, so she supposed it was working. She grasped his arm to bring him to a halt when they reached the café. It was small and rather ordinary, but the owl symbol on the sign had drawn her eye. This close to the Diagon Alley entrance, she had wondered if it was some secret code, a sign of wizarding ownership. But she had stopped by this café on her trip for school supplies every year, and she had never seen any hint of magic. Tonight she was glad, because she didn’t want any magic to intrude on this. It was too fragile. They chose a table in the far corner, and placed their order. The waitress brought over two foamy hot chocolates with marshmallows on the side. As Malfoy sipped daintily at his drink, she could see the tension drain away. Just as she suspected, no one could resist the healing powers of chocolate.

Hermione pondered how to begin the conversation. One wrong move would make Malfoy retreat into his shell.

‘You know, I’ve been wanting to try Muggle bowling for a while, but I could never find anyone to play it with.’

Malfoy stared at her as though she had two heads, and she forced herself to ignore the foam moustache he was currently wearing. ‘You want to go bowling,’ he enunciated slowly. ‘With me.’

‘Yes,’ Hermione insisted with a bright smile. ‘I can’t think of a classier way to begin a friendship, can you?’

Hermione had marched over to the bar this morning determined to seduce Draco Malfoy for a night of meaningless fun. But Malfoy clearly needed a friend more than she needed a distraction.  And what could possibly be more distracting than striking up a friendship with Draco Malfoy?

‘A friendship?’ he asked.

‘Yes, we’re going to be friends. Though if all you can do is parrot my words back at me, this could get boring quickly.’

He stirred the dregs of his hot chocolate for a while, probably trying to work out exactly how crazy she was. When he finally looked up, she could see the tiniest hint of a smile on his face. ‘One question- what is bowling?’

Thirty minutes later they found themselves in a bowling alley two blocks away. Her parents had brought her there on the way back from Hogwarts after her second year. Bowling wasn’t really her typical idea of fun. But she had missed her parents so much, especially after all that time spent in the hospital wing as a cat or petrified, that she had played the game wholeheartedly. She was pretty awful at it, and it made her feel ridiculous. But that was exactly what Malfoy needed, a chance to laugh at himself. It was funny that she was suddenly sharing her Muggle family traditions with him of all people, but they would have understood.

She had seen the disgust in his eyes when she explained how the renting of bowling shoes worked, but she just raised an eyebrow in challenge, and he put them on without complaint. She took her turn first, showing him how to throw the ball. It rolled down the gutter, so she gave up and told him to watch the group in the next lane. He had an intense look of concentration on his face as he rolled his ball, and then somehow managed to land a perfect strike. She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘Beginner’s luck.’

He won the game by fifty points. He gloated unabashedly as they shared a bowl of nachos after the game. ‘I guess it was my superior Seeker reflexes.’

Hermione just rolled her eyes.

He leaned casually back in his chair. ‘So, what’s next on our magical friendship journey?’ he asked.

She considered it seriously. The obvious thing to do would be to invite him to join her study session with Theodore. She had never seen them hanging out together at Hogwarts, but they had similar demons, and Theodore would probably make a better friend for Draco than she would. But she just couldn’t do it. It might be selfish, but she wanted to keep Theodore to herself for now.  Plus she was only just getting the hang of one-on-one Slytherin interactions. If they joined forces to gang up on her, she would be doomed. What was the right protocol for hanging out with your ex-enemy and ex-lover turned friend?

‘Are you interested in art? There’s a gallery opening next weekend.’ Her friends would have had a blast at the bowling alley, but Malfoy hadn’t called her out on her obvious lie about being unable to find a partner. An art gallery on the other hand, they would consider a form of torture. She suspected from Malfoy’s upper-class upbringing that he was no stranger to art. He gave an affirmative answer, and they agreed to meet back at the café next Saturday.

She hesitated over how to say goodbye, but it seemed Malfoy’s victory had given him some confidence back. He walked forward until they were almost touching.

‘We’re friends now, remember?’ she said, putting a hand on his chest.

‘What about friends with benefits?’ he asked with a smirk.

‘That’s a terrible idea,’ she muttered as he leaned down to kiss her. But her body had other ideas, and soon their tongues were fighting for dominance as she twined her arms around his neck. She was determined that this time the victory would go to her.

This is a brilliant idea, she thought as Malfoy came up for air. She gave him a second to breathe then pulled him back in for round two.


	5. Study Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione has a fun break with Draco from her study session with her brother.

Theodore slammed the book shut with a loud bang. ‘Where did you find this trash? The upstart author has no respect for the Pytagion Theory, so all his logic is fundamentally flawed.’

Hermione ignored him as she scribbled out her own notes.

‘Why are you smiling? I just wasted half an hour on this crummy book!’

Hermione smiled even wider. ‘Your passion for obscure arithmancy principles just makes me really happy.’

‘I’m glad I amuse you,’ he grumbled.

‘Anyway, you can blame the Noble House of Black. The book came with Harry’s inheritance from his godfather.’  She never mentioned Grimmauld Place directly. Theodore made a great study partner, but she wasn’t quite ready to spill all of her secrets. She had learnt the importance of having a cosy secret safe-house the hard way, through the horrors of tent life. Now that they knew Snape wasn’t a traitor, they could trust in the safety of Grimmauld Place again. Anyway, she was glad for the excuse not to invite him to her dreary home. The owner of Tomes and Scrolls at Hogsmeade had let her use the backroom for studying, as part of her payment for some inventory work, along with a small amount of galleons. Though she liked the security of the money, she appreciated the study space even more.

Hermione turned back to her Transfiguration textbook, waving her wand in the pattern demonstrated in the book for turning toads into feathers.

‘Your swish is too high,’ Theodore said. ‘It should peak at chin level.’

She shook her head. ‘You’re such a know-it-all.’ But she followed his advice, and she had to admit that the motion felt more natural.

Her eyes were starting to droop when she felt a tug, and she grasped her book harder. ‘Hey!’ she shouted.

‘You need a break,’ Theodore insisted as he yanked the book out of her hands with his superior strength. ‘Think logically. Compare your brains, resources and study efforts against the difficulty of the test. There is no universe in which you wouldn’t get an O in your Transfiguration N.E.W.T. Go grab a coffee and give me a chance to catch up.’

She tried to stare him down, but it seemed he was immune. She gave in ungracefully, shuffling out the door and making a beeline for Morgana’s Coffeehouse. If she was forced away from her books, she might as well energise her brain with some caffeine so she could make up for the lost time later.

As she walked down the street she caught a glimpse of white around the corner. She raced forward to catch up with it. ‘Malfoy!’ she whisper-shouted. He turned around, then gestured to the side of Madam Puddifoots. She followed him around to the back of the shop, where there was a little garden. She peered around and finally saw a shoe sticking out from behind a big oak tree. As she joined him, she realised that the spot was hidden by the tree on one side and a fence on the other. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘Is this a secret Slytherin make-out spot?’

‘More like a super-obvious make-out spot known by anyone who ever went to Hogwarts.’

She could see how that would be the case. But school was out so they were unlikely to be interrupted by any students. Plus the chance of being caught did give things a certain thrill. She would deny it if anyone asked, but she hadn’t exactly spent all that time hanging around the boy-who-lived for the mundane lifestyle.

He reached out and she stepped into the circle of his arms, greeting him with a kiss. She stepped back despite his protests, and looked up thoughtfully. She waved her wand, and a ladder appeared on the tree. She grasped the ladder and started climbing, brushing against him on her way up. When she reached the thick branch two feet off the ground, she hoisted herself up, straddling the branch. ‘Up for some fun?’ she called down.

He climbed up quickly, then straddled the other side of the branch so that they were facing each other. She scooted along the branch as far as she could, then leaned in for another kiss, keeping her hands on the branch for balance. He responded enthusiastically, grabbing her ass and pulling her forward until they were fully pressed against one another. Her legs started to ache from the strain, as though she were doing the splits. She found relief when she bent them at the knee and twined them around his. Using him for support, she felt confident enough to lift her death grip on the tree branch. She ran her hands across his shoulders, then pulled away from his mouth. He made a sound of protest which turned into a moan when she nipped at his neck, sucking at his pulse point. When she licked a particularly sensitive spot, he wobbled and almost lost his balance, saved when she grabbed the branch hard in one hand, and his shirt with the other. They stared at each other in shock for a few moments after the close call, then burst into laughter.

‘Well, that was different,’ Malfoy said when they had calmed themselves down. They had rearranged themselves so his back was firmly against the tree trunk to avoid any more near-death experiences, and she was leaning back against him with her legs to one side of the tree, his arm around her waist.

The gravity-defying shenanigans were new, but they had been meeting every other day for the last three weeks, mostly in the Muggle world, and they had been getting pretty creative. There was a memorable encounter in a sauna that would star in her dreams for a while yet. Three weeks ago they had met at the art gallery as agreed, and wandered around with nothing but friendly chatter and the occasional not-so-accidental brush of hands. They had kept up the pretence for about an hour, then she had succumbed to lust after a well-timed stroke of her thigh to ‘brush off some dirt’ as they sat on the steps outside. That had led to a heavy make-out session that was only interrupted by the sudden burst of music from a street performer nearby.

She had been surprised to learn that he had an apartment a few blocks from Diagon Alley, but they had yet to take their romance to his home. She had designated it a friends-only zone. It made their liaisons more complicated, but that was the point. She was determined to be his friend as well as his lover. They didn’t exactly stay up late having deep conversations about their feelings, but they asked about each other’s days, and picked up some of the rest from non-verbal cues. She had been right about his loneliness. He didn’t seem to have much contact with the world outside of visits with his mother and the occasional letter to Pansy Parkinson in France. She herself felt incredibly spoiled to be surrounded by so many friends she loved, but she would never forget what it felt like to be alone, as she had been when she was younger. She wanted to be his friend, but she didn’t want to be his girlfriend, for a million obvious reasons. So boundaries were necessary. If she visited his apartment they might share a meal, but they wouldn’t have sex. For his part, he seemed happy either way, to see Hermione the friend or Hermione the lover. She felt the same way. She wasn’t sure why it worked, this weird and messy compartmentalising, but it did.

Draco nudged her leg with his. ‘I was shocked by your choice of location. I thought you hated flying. Isn’t this just like being on a big stationary broom?’

She shook her head. ‘I’m not afraid of heights. I’m not even scared of flying in general either- I’ve ridden Hippogriffs and dragons. But brooms always feel so flimsy, like there’s nothing between you and gravity.’

‘That’s the fun part,’ he insisted. She smiled, thinking of how many times Harry had said the exact same thing.

She was startled by the tolling of a bell in the distance. ‘Is it really 2 o’clock already? I have to go,’ she said, as she reached for the ladder.

‘What’s the rush?’ he asked.

‘Study session with Neville,’ she said. ‘I was on a coffee break. He’ll be wondering if I fell in a ditch somewhere.’

He followed after her, and when they reached the bottom of the tree he gave her a kiss on the cheek, before walking away. She stared after him for a moment, wondering if she should be concerned at the show of casual affection. She decided to just let it be. She took the left turn back onto the main street and collided with someone, who steadied her before she could fall over.

‘Neville!’ she exclaimed, looking up. It was as though she had summoned him with her lie. ‘How are you? It’s been ages.’

‘I’m great,’ he said. ‘I’ve been studying, setting up my own little greenhouse. I’m here running some errands for Nan.’

‘And Luna? She and her father are staying with you, right?’

‘Yep,’ he said. ‘I thought they would clash, but Nan adores her. Says she keeps things lively.’

Hermione laughed. ‘Are you and Luna…’

‘No,’ he said with a smile. ‘I adore Luna too, but we’re just good friends. The chemistry isn’t there. You on the other hand…’ He gave a meaningful look towards the garden where she came from.

‘Ah,’ she said. ‘So you saw us.’

‘I did,’ he said. ‘You looked happy.’

‘It’s nothing serious,’ she said. ‘We’ve just been fooling around for a while.’

‘It looked like a bit more than that,’ he said softly. ‘You don’t need to defend yourself to me. I trust your judgement. You’re the smartest person I know.’

She sighed and led him over to a nearby bench. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘So maybe it isn’t entirely meaningless,’ she said. ‘We’ve been hanging out for a while. We met at a bar a few months ago, and there was just this moment when things clicked, you know? A moment of…’

‘Kinship,’ he suggested.

 ‘Exactly,’ she said, with a surprised look.

He blushed. ‘I was going stir-crazy for a while before Luna moved in. Nan has a lot of old-timey romance books in her library.’

‘No judgement here,’ Hermione said.

‘Sometimes those books have truth in them, you know? All the best relationships have those moments of kinship. Romances, friendships… do you remember when we met on the train in first year?’

‘I do,’ she said. ‘You were looking around frantically for Trevor. You looked so lost and out of place. I’m sure I came off like an arrogant little brat, as Ron would say, but I felt exactly the same on the inside.’

‘I knew you did,’ he said, squeezing her hand. She squeezed back.

‘Hermione!’ came a breathless shout, as Luna came running up to them. ‘I could sense the Nargles down the street, and I knew I would find you here if I ran fast enough.’

She handed Neville a wallet. ‘You left this behind.’

Hermione gave her a hug. ‘You look well.’ The last time she had seen Luna, she had looked even frailer than usual, as though she would float away. She had tried to put her usual cheerful spin on it, but losing her home had obviously hurt her. Living with the Longbottoms seemed to agree with her.

‘So do you,’ Luna said, reaching out to pick a leaf out of Hermione’s hair. ‘Communing with nature can free the Fuzzputs from your aura. So can eating strawberries, and kissing.’

Hermione gave a nervous laugh, and looked to Neville for help.

Neville linked his arm with Luna’s, and dug out a list. ‘I’d better finish off these errands. Care to join me, Luna? Maybe we can get dinner afterwards.’

‘Wait,’ Hermione said on an impulse. ‘How about a study session? I’d like you to meet my brother.’

Theodore looked up as the door slammed shut. ‘About time. I thought you might have abandoned me for a second, but I knew you would never abandon your books.

Hermione shifted nervously from foot to foot. ‘You remember Neville and Luna?’ she asked. Then she regretted asking the question and continued on before he could answer. ‘I invited them to join us. I need to study Herbology, and Neville has the greenest thumb I know.’

‘Pull up a seat,’ he told Neville wryly. Luna had already pulled out the chair next to Theodore’s, and scooted it close to him. He looked at her askance.

‘That book is better upside down,’ Luna said in her dreamiest voice, eyeing the arithmancy tome that had irritated Theo earlier. ‘The thunder before the lightning. Liffles only like to dance in the light.’

He gave her the look that strangers always gave Luna, the one Hermione was ashamed to have used frequently when they first met.  ‘If you say so,’ he said.

Hermione dug her Herbology textbook out of her bag, finding her place with the ease of practice. ‘Now, this plant looks like Aconite, but I know it’s different somehow,’ she told Neville.

‘That’s brilliant!’ Theodore shouted suddenly ten minutes later. ‘This crackpot makes more sense if you look at his answers first. He obviously found the result by accident and then tried to recreate the angles. He heard the thunder before he saw the lightning.’ He was looking at Luna as though he might hug her. Hermione and Neville watched with wide eyes, but in the end Theodore just extended a hand to her. ‘Theodore Nott. It’s nice to meet you, Luna Lovegood.’ Luna shook his hand with a look of satisfaction. Hermione had a feeling that Theodore had just passed a test. Luna was more devious than they gave her credit for. Soon Theodore and Luna were talking so intensely about arithmancy that they didn’t notice when Neville slipped out. When he returned with scones, they paused only long enough to gulp one down each, and then continued where they left off.

Hermione smiled at Neville. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered, ‘for making this so easy.’

‘It was no problem,’ Neville said. ‘Luna did the hard part. She really is a wonder.’

‘That she is,’ Hermione agreed.

As she finished off her own scone, she thought about how jealous Harry and Ron would be that she had let Neville and Luna meet Theodore as her brother first. Well, maybe it would encourage them to be more serious about their studies next time.


	6. Game Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luna hosts a game night.

Hermione took a deep breath and walked towards Longbottom Manor. She found the strong scent of the red roses that lined the path to the entrance a bit off-putting, but she had to admit that the visual effect was very pretty. There was the occasional bright ribbon weaved through them, which she attributed to Luna’s efforts. She knocked on the door promptly when she reached the end of the path.

She let out a sigh of relief when Luna opened the door instead of Mrs. Longbottom. Luna greeted her with a smile and grabbed her hand, dragging her through a maze of hallways. Her vague impression was of a regal stateliness in Gryffindor colours, softened by signs of the chaotic lives of the inhabitants. There were potted plants everywhere. Some of them were beautiful, and some of them were very ugly plants that she recognised for their practical uses. She was glad to see them sitting proudly in spots of honour. It seemed that Mrs. Longbottom was letting Neville flourish in his own way now.

Luna opened the door to the lounge room with a flourish and a curtsy. At a glance, Hermione took notice of Harry, Ron and George whispering in a corner, while Theodore stood with Mrs. Longbottom and Neville on the other side of the room. Ginny was flipping through a magazine on the couch in the centre of the room, the only person who appeared at ease. When Hermione caught her eye she shrugged and made a face. Hermione couldn’t tell if it was her my-brother-is-an-idiot face or a your-brother-is-an-idiot face. She thought things could go either way with Ginny. She was the wild card. Time would tell.

Hermione walked over to the trio of boys first, giving each of them a hug and a hissed ‘play nice’. She patted George’s pockets as she hugged him, and confiscated a mysterious bottle of blue liquid. George just shrugged and smiled. She tried to judge whether any of the potion was missing, but it was hard to tell. She moved quickly over to Theodore and the Longbottoms, scanning her brother for any sign of pranking. There were no obvious abnormalities.

She greeted Neville’s grandmother. ‘Mrs. Longbottom, it’s nice to see you again. Thanks for inviting us to your home. It’s lovely.’

‘Thank you dear. But this is Luna’s little soiree. Don’t mind me, I’m just another guest.’ Mrs. Longbottom always wore a thick cloak of pride and command that she couldn’t hide with false modesty, but it was nice of her to make the gesture. She could walk into any room and hold it in tyranny within seconds.

Hermione gave Theodore a hug, to his surprise. It was the first time she had made the show of affection, but the timing felt right. In their short time getting to know each other, they had already progressed to a nice friendship, and she was hopeful for more. Plus she needed to show her friends that she had no doubts, and was ready for their enthusiastic support rather than their caution.

 ‘Did something happen? You’re never late.’ There was a touch of concern in Theodore’s voice.

She shook her head. ‘Luna,’ she said, exasperated. ‘She told me to be here at 7pm.’ It was futile to try and work out Luna’s motives. Hermione would just have to trust that she had a good reason. ‘How is it going so far?’ she asked.

‘It’s a mixed reaction,’ Theodore said. ‘I got a grilling from Ginny, but I think she gave me her seal of approval in the end. George was suspiciously pleasant, and your two shadows grunted a hello and then promptly ignored me.’

‘That’s better than I expected,’ she said. She was more worried about Harry than anything else. Of course Ron had his temper and jealousy issues, but he seemed genuinely happy that she had found a brother, if slightly wary of his Slytherin ways. Harry had been incredibly supportive. Almost too supportive. He had always been the closest person in her life to that spot labelled ‘brother’, even if that was far too simple a word for their friendship. She sensed some insecurity bubbling under the surface, and wasn’t sure how it would come out.

‘The Longbottoms have been amazing,’ Theodore said. ‘Do you know Mrs. Longbottom actually invited me to stay here, on the pretext of being childhood friends with my father’s sister?’

That was surprising. It seemed Mrs. Longbottom was making a habit of collecting strays.

‘How do you feel about that?’ she asked.

‘I just can’t comprehend it. All my life, when I walked into a room I knew what everybody thought of me. A dark horse, a potential villain. I could be as unassuming and neutral as I wanted, but the stain of my father was always there. So I never tried too hard beyond the minimum effort necessary to avoid following in his footsteps. And now they look at me, and they just assume that I’m a good person, based on your word and the tiniest shred of acquaintance with me.’

Hermione smiled wryly. ‘I know the feeling. When I started Hogwarts, all of the blood purists had this preconceived notion of what I would be. Dumb, crude, _dirty_. And later on I developed that good girl reputation, the brightest witch of her age. The pressure was overwhelming sometimes.’

‘How did you cope?’ he asked.

‘I had my family who knew me, the real me, the good and the bad. It was harder when I got to Hogwarts- I wasn’t the best at making friends. But I kept pushing and eventually fate in the form of a rampaging troll took care of the rest.’

Theodore gave her an irritated look. ‘All that gooey Gryffindor nonsense is really sweet, but how does that apply to me?’

‘You don’t have that now, anyone who knows the real you. But you will. You have to put in the effort where you can, and then accept that the rest of the friendship equation is just unquantifiable, it resists logic. You’re letting me in. The next step is to let them in.’ That had been a difficult lesson for the eleven-year-old Hermione Granger, who had thought everything responded to logic, even magic.

She could tell he was getting ready for another snarky defensive comment. She turned away so he didn’t have to look her in the eye while he processed his uncomfortable feelings.

‘But you already knew that,’ she told him over her shoulder. ‘All you need is the bravery to do it. Remember you have a Gryffindor for a sister.  You must have a little bit of lion in you too.’ With those parting words she marched quickly over to Luna, to get herself out of his firing range.

Half an hour later she almost jumped out of her skin when a loud bell rang out. She paused her discussion with Mrs. Longbottom about her library, and looked over to see Luna holding a gigantic bell.

‘Gather around!’ Luna shouted. ‘It’s time for some fun and games.’

What followed was a bizarre game involving pairing up to solve puzzles. The teams would put together a jigsaw puzzle while wearing blindfolds, and then the completed puzzle would transfigure into a toad that needed to be sung a lullaby. By the fifth stage Hermione was feeling dizzy.  For reasons known only to Luna, Theodore and Ron had been paired together. Hermione had deliberately set up her game facing in the opposite direction. She didn’t want to be distracted by their inevitable bickering. Hermione had been paired with Mrs. Longbottom, who was almost as competitive as she was.

Hermione picked the red feather and placed it in the green cap. The effect was garish, but it seemed that was the right answer, as mist formed over the table while the game moved on to the next stage. As they waited for the magic to settle, Hermione turned to Mrs Longbottom. ‘Theodore told me about your offer. That was very generous of you.’

Mrs. Longbottom waved her hand in dismissal. ‘Nonsense. The boy shouldn’t live in his mansion all alone, and he would be good company for my Neville and Luna. I never realised how quiet this place was until Luna came to stay.’

‘I’ll admit it would be a weight off my mind. I haven’t seen Nott Manor, but I imagine it isn’t a very homey place. If he were staying here, it would be easier for me to visit.’ She would step foot in Nott Manor when hell froze over. It was right up there on her list of places to avoid with Malfoy Manor and Bathilda Bagshot’s house.

Mrs. Longbottom tapped her foot impatiently as they waited for the next stage of the game. ‘I wanted to take him in, you know,’ she said, with a nod towards Harry and Ginny’s table. ‘He was just a baby, and Alice and Frank had been so close to the Potters. Things would have been different. I would have kept a firm eye on the boy.  There would have been no dark hijinks messing him about.’

Hermione believed her wholeheartedly. Mrs. Longbottom was a force to be reckoned with. ‘That would have been better for Harry,’ she agreed. ‘But we can’t change the past.’ She had expended a lot of energy lately in not thinking about the past.

She was distracted by a loud bang from a rainbow firework. It came from Ron and Theodore’s table. ‘Yes!’ Ron shouted. ‘We won!’ He did a little dance around the room, and then gave Theodore a high-five. Hermione was shocked speechless. As she offered her congratulations, she asked Ron, ‘Did you hit your head?’

Ron shrugged. ‘The bloke knows his Quidditch. He supports the Chudley Cannons too, can you believe it? He’s a good egg.’

Hermione could believe that Theodore knew how to play to his audience. She had never heard him express interest in Quidditch before.

After the games wrapped up, a group of house-elves brought out an interesting feast. Luna refused to tell them the names of the dishes, so they all had to gather up their courage before digging in. The food was surprisingly nice, though Hermione often had no idea what she was eating. The only thing she recognised was the fairy floss they had for dessert. The food disappeared quickly, except for a plate of what could only be described as purple goo, which only George would touch. The look on his face discouraged anyone else from trying it. He begged Luna to let him take the rest home, and Hermione shuddered to think of what use he would find for it.

Luna took her aside at the end of the evening and gave her a box of brownies with pink icing. ‘Present these to Draco with my compliments,’ she said. ‘I’ll invite him to my next party. It’s fun to make new friends, don’t you think?’

Hermione just shook her head. Neville was the soul of discretion, so he wouldn’t have told Luna about Hermione’s affair with Draco. Luna must have seen them together with her own eyes- she wasn’t the sort to gossip.

‘Are you sure Luna?’ Hermione had tried to champion many unpopular causes in her time, but bringing Draco Malfoy into the group would be tougher than all of them put together.

‘Please give Draco the brownies,’ Luna said earnestly, but with a hint of steel behind her words.

Hermione agreed. She saw Theodore glance at them suspiciously from his conversation with George. Ten seconds later, there was a green bang and a foul smell started emanating from that area. Oops. She had forgotten to warn Theodore about the strange potion she confiscated from George. Well, at least it would distract him from Luna’s clandestine brownie operation.

After saying her goodbyes, Hermione apparated to Draco’s apartment. She knocked on the door. There was no answer, so she waved her wand and set off the internal doorbell. She heard shuffling from inside the apartment, and two minutes later a scruffy-looking Draco Malfoy opened the door. She was speechless. Despite their amorous activities, she had never seen him like this, hair sticking up in front, bleary eyes, _wearing slippers!_

‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise you would be asleep yet.’

‘It’s alright,’ Draco yawned. ‘I just had a long day.’

‘Well I won’t keep you, I just wanted to deliver these brownies. They taste better fresh.’

‘You came over to bring me brownies?’ he asked. ‘At 11pm?’ But he eyed them greedily, and she figured his sweet tooth would forgive the wake-up call.

‘A gift, from Luna Lovegood.’

His eyes widened. ‘Oh, crap.’

 

_Two days later_

Theodore whispered ‘Athena’ to the gargoyle, and stepped into the lift as it opened. He held his hands behind his back, a practiced posture he used to avoid the urge to fidget. When he entered the Headmistress’ Office, he gave a slight bow and nod to Professor McGonagall as she rose from her desk.

‘Mr. Nott,’ she greeted him. ‘It’s always nice to see a former student.’ Their student-teacher relationship had always been fairly neutral. He performed well academically, and never stirred any major trouble, but he wasn’t one of her lions. Her greeting was a shade too warm. He supposed someone had been filling her in on his progress with Hermione. Hermione was unlikely to have spoken about it herself, and if it was a good report the suspects narrowed to Luna or Longbottom. Perhaps he would drop a few hints at their next study session to try and suss out the culprit. He owed them a favour, as he thought McGonagall would have been more reluctant to grant his request without a reference.

After a few pleasantries, she shook his hand and walked over to the lift. ‘I will return in half an hour. You may call for a house-elf if you require assistance.’ Dumbledore would have said such a sentence with a twinkle in his eye, putting on an act of naïve trust. But McGonagall said it with her strict teacher’s voice, with assurance that she had security measures in place to stop any snooping or malevolent behaviour even in her absence.

She hadn’t pointed out the portrait to him, because it was obvious even amongst the rabble of other former headmasters, most of whom appeared to be absent or sleeping. Snape always had cut a striking figure, and the artist had captured him realistically. He had been painted in a simple library in Slytherin colours, with a few potions instruments lying about unobtrusively. Snape did not pretend to be asleep like his brethren, probably finding it beneath his dignity. He stared at Theodore straight on, his dark eyes focused like a laser.

‘Mr. Nott,’ he said. ‘Have you come to pay your respects?’ There was a trace of sarcasm in his voice. He was likely irritated that there had been no hint of Theodore’s purpose during the conversation with McGonagall, leaving him in the dark.  

‘You have always had my respect,’ he answered, speaking truthfully. ‘But I’m here to deliver some news.’

‘Bad news?’ Snape asked with narrow eyes.

‘That depends on your perspective,’ Theodore replied. ‘I see it as good news, but you may not feel the same.’ Theodore found that Snape was easier to speak to when not in the flesh. The eyes were just as piercing as ever, but his robes were lying still, removing some of the menacing aura his bat-like movements always created.

‘Well, come out with it,’ Snape snapped.

‘My mother became pregnant during your affair with her. Hermione Granger is your daughter.’ Theodore kept his eyes glued to Snape as he spoke, trying to capture his reaction. But Snape was ever the consummate Slytherin, despite his deceptive temper, and Theodore couldn’t get the slightest read off of him.

‘What do you want from me Nott?’ Snape asked with a sneer. ‘An apology? An explanation? Some fairy-tale story about true love to help you sleep at night?’

‘No,’ Theodore said, shuddering. ‘The less I know the better. I’m here to find out if seeing your portrait would help her.’

‘It wouldn’t,’ Snape said firmly. ‘How much do you know about magical portraits?’

‘There’s not much to know. Competing theories abound, some wizards think they capture a copy of the subject’s soul, others think it’s all mere puppetry.’

‘I can neither confirm nor deny those theories for myself. But I believe there is something missing, from my previous interactions with portraits. An ability to adapt, to grow. I am as I was when I died. I had nothing for her then, and I have nothing for her now. I am not her father.’

Theodore nodded. ‘She knows that.’ He gave a shallow bow.  ‘I apologise for disturbing your peace, such as it is,’ he said, turning away. There were things he could say, questions he could ask, to try and find his own peace. But it was best to let sleeping wizards lie. Enough had been asked of Snape during life.

‘There are journals,’ Snape called out. ‘Research journals, purely academic. The girl might find them of use.’

‘Where are they now?’ Theodore asked.

‘They should belong to Draco Malfoy. I named him as my heir.’


	7. The Journals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theodore gives Hermione the journals of Severus Snape.

Hermione answered the last question of her last N.E.W.T examination and put her pen down with a sigh. She was sure no one else in the room shared the sentiment, but she wanted more of this. Her studying mind-set was where she was most at peace. It was her happy place. Just her own mind and the knowledge of the whole universe at her fingertips. Even the examinations gave her a little adrenaline rush, this time without the fear of death. What would she do with herself now? Get a job? The idea of showing up at the same place at the same time every day, a place where someone could find her at the drop of a hat, was a scary thought.  Old habits die hard, and six months after the war there was a part of her that was still on the run. And even so, she had never been able to work out what she wanted to be when she grew up. A mediwitch? A politician? A writer? That was tougher than any Charms examination question. She was startled out of her reverie by the chiming of a bell. Her Hogwarts journey was officially over. She thought this room might actually have been the site of her first Charms class, so it was fitting that this was where it would end. The exams normally took place in the Great Hall, but the smaller group of students gave them an excuse to hold them across the classrooms instead. No one needed to face that particular demon head-on today.

Ginny popped up out of nowhere and linked arms with Hermione. ‘Freedom! No more musty old books!’

Hermione gave a murmur of agreement, but Ginny just shook her head, not fooled for a moment.

‘I’m glad we got to take some of our exams together. Having you in the room made me feel a little smarter, like I was absorbing some of your genius.’ Ginny cheerfully babbled on, while Hermione smiled and nodded, trying to fight off her melancholy. There would be time for the big questions later. For now she should celebrate the victory in front of her. To that end, the girls met up with some of their other classmates, and spent the afternoon lazing about in the sun and splashing water at each other by the edge of the lake. When the time came for Hermione to leave and meet her brother, she was dripping wet, courtesy of Ginny’s push into the lake. Hermione had dragged her in too, so she had got her revenge. They could have dried themselves off with a simple spell, but that would have taken away some of the fun.

As Hermione waited outside a classroom for Theodore to finish his Defense practical, she tried very hard not to think about Draco Malfoy. When she had given him Luna’s brownies, he had just stood there in the doorway with a vacant look. Eventually, she had stolen a brownie, placed the container at his feet, and then left. She had thought he would need some time to process things, but it had now been three weeks, and she hadn’t heard a peep from him. She was glad that Luna hadn’t asked how her brownies were received, because it seemed that Draco wasn’t interested in Luna’s invitation of friendship. And that he was no longer interested in Hermione’s friendship, or anything else from her. She recited Thorton’s Arithmancy principles in her head until she was back to not thinking about him.

When Theodore exited the room, he looked a little grim. He didn’t even comment on her damp appearance.

‘Did it go poorly? I thought you were confident about Defense?’ Hermione asked, with a hand on his arm.

‘What? Oh. No, the exam went fine. I aced it.’

She tilted her head. ‘You don’t look very happy about it.’

‘Can we go somewhere, to talk?’ he asked.

‘Ok,’ she agreed, thinking that it seemed like another Slytherin was going to break up with her.

Five minutes later they settled in to a desk at the Hogwarts library. The room was empty, without even Madam Pince’s leering presence.

‘So,’ Theodore said. ‘I have something to give you.’

‘Oh,’ Hermione said, confused. Perhaps she had misread his demeanour.

He pulled four black leather-bound books from his bag. ‘I wanted to wait until after the N.E.W.Ts, so that you wouldn’t be distracted. But I just can’t wait any longer.’

She tried to peer at the covers, but they had no titles that she could see. ‘Well, you know I always love books.’

He took a deep breath. ‘These are journals, written by Severus Snape.’

‘Journals? By Severus Snape? Like “Dear Diary, today I tormented some first years”?’ She was in shock. She could feel hysterical laughter ready to burst out. She hadn’t heard that name mentioned in months, had tried her best not to even think it.

‘More like research journals. They were in the possession of Draco Malfoy, and I asked him for them. I had to tell him about your parentage, but I swore him to secrecy. He won’t tell anyone.’

So that solved the mystery of the disappearing Draco Malfoy. Theodore was watching her closely. She guessed that he was testing to see if she was ashamed of their relationship. She was careful not to show any shame, because she felt none. Only awkwardness at hearing Malfoy’s name. ‘And you thought that I would want them?’ she asked.

He looked her straight in the eye. ‘I’ve spent some time thinking about it. I know you feel conflicted about Snape, but I really think you should read them. Whatever else he was, the man was a genius. He was clever and ambitious. That’s a connection you share.’

She shook her head. ‘Some of the spells he created… he was the one responsible for Sectumsempra. How many people were felled by that spell on the battlefield?’

‘That was one spell, created in his schoolboy days from what I heard. These journals are from after Voldemort’s first fall, after Snape turned to Dumbledore. These journals are filled with dedicated research and experimentation from one of the sharpest minds the Wizarding World had to offer. Aren’t you just a little bit curious?’

‘Curiosity killed the cat,’ she whispered.

‘What?’

‘Nevermind, just a Muggle saying. Look, I’ll take the journals, but I’m not sure I could bring myself to read them.’ She scooped them up and shoved them roughly into her bag.

‘I know that you will,’ he said. ‘And if you ever need to talk about them, I’ll listen. Just be careful with them though. The information in those books could be worth a fortune. Don’t let it go to waste.’

They parted ways, and Hermione marched right over to the greenhouses. She had spent all morning not-thinking about Draco Malfoy, and yet there was a part of her that knew he was taking his Herbology N.E.W.T right now. She would camp outside the greenhouses and prepare for an ambush.

He was the first person out of the greenhouse, probably trying to avoid the glares of his ex-classmates. She waited by a group of nearby trees. She moved into his line of sight, waiting for his reaction. She thought she would be willing to go as far as a stunning spell if necessary, but it would be better to avoid making a scene. Fortunately, he walked towards her, and they retreated behind the trees for some privacy.

‘You’re avoiding me,’ she said, hands on her hips.

‘Does this look like avoidance?’ he countered.

She glared at him, and he held up his hands in surrender.

‘Severus Snape is your father,’ Draco stated slowly.

‘Biologically, yes. But it doesn’t have any impact on my life now, it’s practically meaningless trivia. So why did you start ignoring my letters?’

Draco plopped down on the grass. She gaped at him in shock. ‘Sit down,’ he said, ‘and I’ll try to explain.’

She sat. Now they were sitting cross-legged on the grass, like children, having a _serious talk_. She really hadn’t anticipated this when they started their affair in that dingy bar.

‘Severus Snape is my godfather. That’s an important tie in the Wizarding World, second only to one’s parents.’

Hermione nodded. She had heard rumours to that effect, but hadn’t given it much serious thought at the time.

‘But he was more than that. He saved my life, my soul. If he hadn’t interfered with Dumbledore, my life would have been over, whether I had gone through with the murder or not. I would never have said so to his face, but he was my hero.’

‘I can understand that,’ Hermione said. ‘But like I said, that has nothing to do with me.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘You know that isn’t true. Look, I didn’t read the journals. I’ve spent the last few years seeing people do horrible things, even my own parents. I need something to hold on to, even if I know it’s just a sentimental illusion.’

‘Then I won’t tell you what’s in the journals. I won’t even read them myself.’

‘That’s not the problem,’ he said. ‘I just can’t be around you right now. Your hatred for Snape will taint my own respect for him.’

‘I don’t hate him,’ she insisted. ‘I have no feelings about him whatsoever.’

‘Maybe not hate, but something else. Whatever it is, you need to work through it. I wish I could help you, but I can’t.’

She wanted to be annoyed with him, she really did, but she could see the sincerity in his eyes.

He continued with a smile.  ‘I’ve always been a coward. But you’re not. You should use that ridiculous Gryffindor bravery and read those journals.’ He leaned in and kissed her gently, pulling away before she could respond. He stood up.  ‘I sent Luna a thank you note for the brownies. They were delicious. The chilli was a nice surprise.’ He walked away.

She swivelled around so she didn’t have to watch his departure, then lay down, thumping her head against the ground. ‘Slytherins,’ she muttered. ‘Banes of my existence.’

 

Harry poked the book with his wand, then stepped back quickly. ‘You don’t think they could be Horcruxes, do you?’

‘No,’ Hermione said. ‘Snape would never have created a Horcrux. Besides, I think we would be able to recognise one by now, don’t you?’

He shook his head. ‘Well, I don’t trust these journals. Maybe we should burn them, just to be safe?’

‘No,’ Hermione said quickly, grabbing the book from the table as though to shield it from Harry. ‘Theodore’s right. These books could contain unparalleled knowledge. Potions. Spells.’ She plopped down on to the couch, laying her head on Ginny’s shoulder. ‘I wish they didn’t exist, but since they do I can’t destroy them.’

In sixth year Hermione had been genuinely worried about the danger of the Half-Blood Prince. But under her overwhelming anxiety for Harry, there had been a tiny seed of jealousy. He, who had never cared one ounce about potions, had access to an amazing well of secret knowledge. And that had only been a few careless scribblings. Now, she had four thick journals full of Snape’s actual research. If she could only bring herself to open them, who knew what wonders she could find?

‘Is there a spell you could use to take out all the snarkiness?’ Ginny asked.

Hermione laughed. ‘Sadly, no.’ And that was the problem. These weren’t potions textbooks. They would have Snape’s essence stamped all over them. Snape, who had always had the power to eviscerate her with a few snide comments about a potions essay. She hadn’t cared very much about his personal dislike of her, but his academic disapproval had always stung, because she had known how intelligent he was. And the proof of that was right before her. She had sworn that Snape held no power over her in death, but these journals would give him that power if she let them. If.

Harry nudged Ginny over so he could sit on her other side. All three of them sat on the couch, staring at the leather books. Harry broke the silence. ‘It would feel kind of creepy reading them behind his back. If he knew we had them, he would murder us.’

‘He knows, in a way,’ Hermione said. ‘Professor Sprout told me she saw Theodore outside the Headmistresses’ office a few weeks ago. He must have spoken to Snape’s portrait.’

‘That’s even worse,’ Harry said. ‘The thought of his portrait sitting there is downright spooky.’

‘I think all portraits are sinister,’ Ginny said. ‘After what happened with the Chamber of Secrets, I just don’t trust them.’

Hermione felt the same way, after their Horcrux hunt. Portraits had seemed fun and charming when she was younger, but now they gave her a slimy feeling. It would probably be a long time before that went away. And she wasn’t planning to go near Snape’s portrait anytime soon. Not without full body armour, an unflappable mind and an ironclad alibi in case she snapped and set the portrait on fire. 

‘Hey, does that mean Professor Sprout knows Theodore’s your brother?’ Ginny asked.

‘Yep,’ Hermione said. ‘It’s got to be the worst-kept secret of the Wizarding World. I already have my complaint drafted for the Prophet. They’re bound to say something awful and defamatory when they finally break the story, and I plan to make them regret it.’ Her affair with Draco would probably come out as well. She hadn’t been that discreet today. She had left his role in the journals out of her retelling to Harry and Ginny. She had wanted their advice, and if she told them she had been sneaking around with Draco Malfoy they would have spent the rest of the night speechless.

Hermione got up to make dinner. She didn’t cook very often because she was awful at it, but she was determined to conquer the skill no matter how many burnt disasters it took. Cooking would be a distraction, and there was perhaps a ten percent chance that there would be an edible meal at the end of it. Perhaps if she took the books down to the kitchen with her, there would be a little ‘accident’ and her problem would be solved.

Later that night, as they were eating some pizza she’d picked up down the street, her prayers were answered in another way. A black owl pecked at the window, and when she let it in she discovered a letter addressed to her from Luna. Luna had used golden ink on purple paper, so Hermione had to squint to read it.

‘Dear Hermione,

I heard it’s been raining in London. Rain can make the Fliverleys come out, and they have a nasty bite. A friend of daddy’s is planning a camping expedition to see a special plant bloom near the Altean mountains. You should come with me. It would be almost like a sleepover. I never had the chance to go to any of those. We’re leaving tomorrow. I’ll bring you a hat,

Love Luna.’

Hermione raced off to pack her bags. She had never thought she would be this enthusiastic to get back in a tent, but if it took her away from those awful journals she would agree to go camping inside a volcano. She made sure to pack five of her own hats.


	8. The Purple Knight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Luna trek into the woods to watch the Purple Knight bloom.

Hermione started to drift off to sleep, listening to the wind whistling outside the tent, Luna’s warmth at her back. Warming charms were off-limits, as they could interfere with the blooming of the _Purpurea Esque_ plant, the Purple Knight. So they had to resort to the old-fashioned Muggle methods of huddling under thick blankets and sharing body warmth. It was nice, comforting. Hermione hadn’t really shared a bed very often. Like Luna, she hadn’t been invited to many sleepovers as a kid. And not many adult sleepovers either. She and Draco had never done any actual sleeping together. Ron had an awful snore and a habit of kicking in his sleep, so she had usually retreated to her own bed. She would have slept better when she was on the run with the boys if she had someone sleeping at her back, but the undercurrents of jealousy and bitterness would have been colder than the night air. Luna, as usual, had broken through any qualms Hermione might have had by snuggling in next to her without any fanfare.

‘Hermione,’ Luna whispered, ‘are you awake?’

She had been so close to sleep that it hurt to retreat back to her waking state. ‘Yes,’ she grumbled.

‘Thank you for coming with me,’ she said. ‘Dr. Morgan’s a nice man and a brilliant scientist, but I make him feel uncomfortable. He thinks I’m a little mad. He opened up more for the article with you around. He was excited to meet the smart one of the Golden Trio.’

Hermione had thought the scientist was affable, maybe a little condescending. She hadn’t realised he was a fan, but she trusted Luna’s judgement. She could be oblivious to some things, but much less than people thought, and if she made an observation out loud she meant it. She supposed she should be a little upset that Luna was using her for her fame, but Luna had gained her entry to the site of a big scientific discovery, so she guessed they were even. And if she could smooth things over for Luna with the scientist, she was glad to do so.

‘A scientist without the imagination to keep up with you can’t be that brilliant, no matter how charming he is. This plant is fascinating though. It’s so temperamental and blooms for so short a window, but it could really revolutionise burn treatment. Thanks for inviting me. And for bringing such a fluffy blanket.’

‘It was my mother’s,’ Luna explained. ‘Daddy worried about it getting dirty out here, but I know mother would be happy for it to shine with the stars.’

The blanket was very shiny, a beautiful silver colour. They would bring it with them later when they waited for the plant to bloom. Dr. Morgan theorised that it would bloom an hour before dawn and only last for an hour or two before closing up again. They had a timer set for 1am, just to be on the safe side. Hermione couldn’t resist checking, so she peeked out the tent flap. No blooming yet. Dr. Morgan’s intern was keeping watch over the plant. If this were Hermione’s experiment, she would never give up that honour to someone else. But when Dr. Morgan headed off to bed, it would have been rude not to do the same.

Luna rolled over to face Hermione. ‘I’ve been writing letters to Draco.’

‘Oh?’

‘He’s been trying to learn how to cook risotto. He really liked the risotto you used to bring over, but he couldn’t remember the name of the restaurant.’

‘It was called Michel’s,’ she whispered.

‘Well, I won’t tell him that. Learning new things expands the aura.’

‘Mm,’ Hermione replied.

‘I’m going to save him, you know,’ Luna said casually.

‘Is that what you’re doing with Theodore too? By having him move in to Longbottom Manor?’

Luna shook her head emphatically. ‘No. Theodore was lonely, and he’s happier living with us, but he would have survived on his own. He didn’t need saving.’

Hermione considered that and decided that Luna was right. Theodore had some scars, but he was still whole. ‘But Draco does?’

‘Yes. Before you came along, he was floating away. He thought his demons were too big to face, that he couldn’t make anything of his life, so he just gave up. He had no plans for the future, only to drown in his misery. You helped set him on the right path, and now I’ll finish it. I’ll save him. And then your happily ever after will be there when you want it.’

Hermione had been nodding along until that last line. ‘Luna!’ she shouted, throwing one of her pillows at her head. ‘Draco isn’t my happily ever after. He isn’t my anything. He walked away.’

‘We’ll see,’ Luna said with an arched eyebrow.

Hermione just rolled over and faced the tent wall. She was just starting to drift towards sleep again when Luna spoke.

‘Harry saved me,’ Luna said. ‘I was floating away too, before I met him. The world was grey and cold and it made no sense. I couldn’t hold on much longer. He was like a ray of sunlight, and then he led me to you, to all of my friends. The colours I see now are so beautiful it almost hurts, but I love them. Draco should experience that too.’

Hermione squeezed Luna’s hand under the blanket as if to keep her anchored. She had no idea. Luna had always just been Luna to her. From the moment they met, Hermione had sensed a steel core behind her dreaminess. She had never thought much about where it had come from, what horrors had made such a gentle girl erect such a strong barrier. Now she remembered Harry’s vague mention of hazing from the other Ravenclaws, and she was glad they weren’t at Hogwarts any longer, because she felt a burning desire to hurt anyone who had ever hurt Luna, even herself.

‘Of course you can save him,’ Hermione said. ‘Thank you.’

Hermione was jerked out of sleep by the beeping of her alarm. She quickly jumped out of bed and dashed out into the night, eyes searching for the plant. It was still closed. Her eyes met those of Alex, Dr. Morgan’s intern.

‘Nothing yet,’ Alex said with a yawn. His eyes were bleary, but he had a firm grip on his pen and notebook, and he turned back to the plant right after acknowledging Hermione.

She was suddenly enveloped in warmth.

‘Here,’ Luna said, covering Hermione’s shoulders with her mother’s blanket, keeping the other side wrapped loosely around herself. ‘You’ll catch a cold. The snufflers are out in force tonight, and they’re attracted to shivers.’

The girls moved forward towards the plant, but kept a metre back so that they didn’t distract the intern.

‘Do you think he’s right about the bloom?’ Hermione asked Luna. ‘Might be disappointing, if nothing happens except us freezing out here all morning.’

‘I think it will bloom,’ Luna said. ‘I have a good feeling about it. It’s waking up.’

Luna and Dr. Morgan were right. After two hours of shivering, and watching every tiny movement of the plant in the breeze, the Purple Knight finally bloomed. Dr. Morgan only emerged from his tent ten minutes before the big event. Either he was incredibly lucky, or he had narrowed down the blooming timeframe a lot more than he had shared with them.

Hermione had been mid-yawn when Luna pointed towards the plant, practically vibrating with excitement. ‘It’s happening!’ she whispered.

They had watched as the stem quivered more and more forcefully, and then as a ray of light broke through the trees and shone directly on the plant, its petals opened gracefully, as though in slow motion. Silky leaves of a brilliant shade of purple were revealed, and a musky scent invaded the air. It was the most beautiful thing Hermione had ever seen. And this delicate plant would perform miracles for magical burn victims throughout the world. The Purple Knight. Hermione had thought the name was a little melodramatic, but looking at the beautiful flower she felt the name was earned.

Hermione looked at Dr. Morgan, and saw him standing straight as a rod, tears streaming silently down his cheeks. She decided to forgive him for his sleep-in and early morning peppiness.

For the next twenty minutes Dr. Morgan was focused like a laser, recording every detail of the plant’s blooming, and then harvesting it with great care. When it was safely tucked away in his special containment box, he was eager to return to his laboratory. Yesterday, he had chattered away at full speed, telling Luna in flowery detail about his heroic mission and the magnificent brainwave that had led him to the plant. Now, he waved her off and told her to write whatever she wanted for the article, as long as his name was somewhere on the page. Alex the intern was marginally more friendly, giving an awkward wave goodbye as the portkey swept them away.

When they were alone Luna laid her blanket on the ground and leaned with her back against a tree, notebook and pen in hand. Hermione watched, bemused, as Luna sprinkled a handful of dirt over the page and then started scribbling.

After ten minutes of trying to appreciate nature, Hermione became restless. She started pacing back and forth across the clearing, pretending to take in the beauty of the forest.

Hermione was startled by Luna’s voice suddenly breaking out of the silence. ‘If you want to talk, talk. I can listen to you and the Purple Knight at the same time.’

Hermione swivelled around to face Luna. ‘I think this is it. This is what I want to do. Well, not exactly this, there are so many things I would do differently, no press and no sleeping in, I would have set up a Muggle video camera…’

‘That’s great,’ Luna said, interrupting her rambling. ‘It can be easier to see when the nargles are sleeping.’

Hermione went back to her pacing, and Luna scribbled out a few more words. Eventually, Luna put down her notebook and stretched out like a cat, before leaping to her feet gracefully.

‘I bet Snape felt it calling too,’ Luna said. ‘But he couldn’t answer it any more, and it made him bitter. Maybe it was his Death Eater reputation blocking him, or maybe it was self-punishment for what happened to Lily. Slytherins might have hard scales, but they still have soft insides. Almost everything does.’

‘But what is it, Luna? What’s calling me?’

‘The truth,’ Luna said. ‘There are different paths and ways to travel them, but it’s really about the truth. For me, for you, for Snape. The truth that is hidden from us. You want to set it free. To do good with it. You should start with his truth.’

‘The journals,’ Hermione said. ‘How did you know about them?’

Luna smiled cryptically. ‘Theodore has the drive to be sneaky and hide things, but he doesn’t have a talent for it.’

Hermione just shook her head. Luna was scary sometimes.

‘They could have used the journals, you know. Theodore and Draco. It would have been a good story. The tragic war hero’s godson or former student brings his secret research to light, saves orphans and puppies. The journals could have been their redemption, in perception and in truth. But they gave it up. They really love you.’

Hermione chose to busy herself with packing up.

As they hovered over their portkey, Hermione had an interesting thought. ‘Luna, how would you feel about stealing the Prophet’s thunder? I need to run it by Theodore, but I have an idea.’

 

Hermione stepped out of the Floo to a big shout of ‘Welcome Home!’ It seemed that all of her friends were crowded into the Grimmauld Place kitchen. It was almost unrecognisable, covered in red and gold crepe paper. She even spied a slightly crooked chocolate cake on the counter. She searched the room for a certain head of messy black hair.

‘Harry!’ she shouted, hitting him on the arm as he tried to cower behind Ginny. ‘I was only gone for one night!’ She heard the swoosh of the Floo and saw Luna pop out. Luna was soon danced around the kitchen by George, bursting into a fit of giggles.

‘I figured we all needed a celebration after finishing our N.E.W.Ts. And I don’t get that many chances to surprise you. Were you surprised?’

‘Yes!’ she said, hitting him again. ‘Here, since you love surprises, here’s a present for you. You can get rid of all this luggage.’ She shoved her bags into his arms, surreptitiously removing the lightweight charm from them as she did so.

‘Yes Mam.’ And he actually took the bags upstairs with a smile.

‘Theodore’s here,’ Ginny told her.

‘Oh?’ Hermione said, following Ginny’s gaze to see him chatting with Neville by the oven.

‘I invited him. It was time to let him into the club properly, and I knew you needed a push.’ She gave Hermione a gentle push in Theodore’s direction as she said the word. ‘Now you don’t have to agonise over it. You’re welcome.’

Hermione rolled her eyes, but she could admit to herself that Ginny was right. Theodore was her brother, and she could _feel_ that as more than just a technical fact now. He was a friend, a part of her family. He was welcome in their home, in their safe house. But it would have taken a much longer time to convince her head of that.

As Hermione started to walk in his direction, Ginny stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. ‘He and Harry had it out earlier, squabbling like children. I had a hex at the ready, but I didn’t need to use it. I think they’re cool now.’

Hermione stood next to Theodore. ‘Hey, fancy seeing you here,’ she said. Neville left discreetly, giving them some privacy.

‘Ginny invited me,’ he said. ‘It’s a spacious house.’ She could see from the curl of his lip that he found Grimmauld Place distasteful. She did too, but still.

‘It’s home,’ she said defensively.

‘It’s a ray of sunshine,’ he said. ‘Cozy.’

‘Yes, it is,’ she said with a straight face.

He dropped the sarcasm. ‘Are you mad about the journals?’

‘No,’ she said honestly. ‘Thank you for thinking of me.’ There was an awkward pause. ‘You should read The Quibbler tomorrow. Luna plans to bury a reference in the Purple Knight article to my biological heritage, then write a small exclusive about it in the middle of the paper, no headline on the front page. The news should leak out to the public slowly. The Prophet will be furious.’

‘Well, that should be fun.’ He tried to keep his tone light, but she could see the grin trying to break through. ‘Potter and I had a nice talk earlier. We’ve come to an understanding.’

‘What kind of understanding?’ she asked.

‘The usual, the trading of livestock was involved. He gets to walk you down the aisle at your wedding, I get to be godfather of your first child. It’s all settled.’

‘Well, I was planning to give those jobs to George, but you’re both welcome to duel him for them.’

‘Did I hear my name?’ George asked, as he came up from behind her. Soon he was twirling her around the kitchen until she was dizzy, and as she caught her breath they plotted to dump cake on Ron and Percy’s heads.

 

Later that night she lay down on her bed, and picked up a black leather book. As she sipped her cup of coffee, she turned the first page.


	9. Paparazzi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione runs into a paparazzi at a bakery.

Hermione waited in line at the bakery, breathing in the intoxicating smells of cinnamon and nutmeg. She was meeting with George at the joke shop to look over some of his new ideas and she had promised him and Valerie some sweets. It was the least she could do after Valerie introduced her to the heavenly pastries from Hoot Hoot Café all those months ago. They had gotten her through many a gruelling study session. The bakery was very busy, and often had queues going out the door. Looking behind her, Hermione realised she had the ill fortune to be queuing next to Narcissa Malfoy.

‘Miss Granger,’ Narcissa greeted her with a nod, and then looked away.

Hermione wasn’t sure how to interpret that. The news of her parentage had been splashed all over the papers for the last two weeks. Of course Narcissa Malfoy would never be so gauche as to stare at her like a zoo animal the way the other café patrons did. Had the surname Granger been a slight against her, a sly dig that she wasn’t ‘worthy’ of the names of her biological parents? Before the news broke, would Narcissa have acknowledged her at all, or merely treated her like an annoying bug buzzing past her head?

Before Hermione could decide on an answer, she saw the tell-tale flash of light from one of the Prophet’s cameras. She had learnt to recognise it by the orange tint to the flash that the other news crews lacked.

‘Miss Granger!’ shouted an unfamiliar journalist in an elegant pantsuit. ‘Any comments for the Prophet?’

Hermione just turned her back to the camera and ignored her, praying that she could still manage to get her sweets.

‘Not even about your affair with Draco Malfoy? Is it true that you’ve been having sex with a Death Eater behind The Chosen One’s back?’

Hermione couldn’t help a violent twitch at that, but soon regained her composure and stared straight ahead, focusing on a fluffy blueberry Danish for comfort. After a few shouts, each framing a headline more sensational than the last, Hermione finally relented.

‘I have not seen Mr. Malfoy since our N.E.W.Ts examinations at Hogwarts. Examinations in which I believe I’ve broken a record for the number of N.E.W.Ts attempted. Perhaps you could find room for that fact in your next gossip column?’

The journalist scribbled down a few words, but it clearly wasn’t the quote she was looking for. She continued to hurl questions at Hermione, though she acted as though she were proclaiming them to the whole café in general, with no attempt at discretion.

‘Ms. Turner!’ Narcissa Malfoy was waving down the owner of the café in a friendly manner. The journalist almost dropped her notebook in shock. Clearly she had been unaware of Narcissa’s presence when she was shouting out insults about her son.

Narcissa gave Ms. Turner a bright smile. ‘I do believe that under the new media laws you have the right to evict this young lady for obstruction of your establishment. Her camera is just so unwieldy, I’m afraid one of your poor customers will have an accident.’ The laws in question had been passed by the Wizengamot with ease after a senator tripped over the equipment of a journalist and broke his leg.

A matronly lady in an apron appeared on the scene, and gestured firmly for the journalist to leave. ‘I do believe that is correct. My dear husband Peter is a lawyer, so I suppose I could ask him for his opinion if we need clarification?’

Faced with the dual assault from two ladies with icy smiles, the journalist soon departed. The owner gave Narcissa a nod and retreated back to her counter.

Hermione tried very hard to sink in to the floor, but Narcissa was unaccommodating.

‘You have had friendly interactions with Draco?’ Narcissa asked pleasantly, as though they were making small talk.

Hermione considered giving her the same deceptive non-answer she had given the journalist, but she knew it would be a losing battle. ‘We were involved for a little while, but the relationship has ended now.’

‘Hmm,’ was all the reply Narcissa gave.

Hermione realised she had reached the front of the queue, and seized on the opportunity to turn away. She ordered a box of pastries, but forwent the coffee she had been craving so she could escape more quickly.

‘Have a nice day,’ she threw out, half-facing the waitress and half-facing Narcissa, then scurried out the door.

She thought over the encounter as she walked over to the joke shop. She didn’t know what to make of Narcissa Malfoy. She was definitely not a good or decent person. She had escaped serious punishment after the war on the balance of her husband and sister having died in battle, being unmarked herself, the lack of witnesses willing to accuse her of anything, and gossip that she had ‘saved’ The Chosen One at a pivotal moment. Hermione knew she had been knee-deep in the Death Eater world during both wars, and she was surely very guilty of something. And yet, she had saved the life of Hermione’s best friend, whatever her motives. She also had some good references. Draco was incredibly fond of her. Andromeda Tonks was regretful at the loss of her sister. And reading between the lines of his journals, Severus Snape had some regard for her. There were entries relating to potions ingredients gathered from the Malfoy greenhouses, which always referred to Narcissa rather than Lucius. And he had accepted the position of Draco’s godfather, which was no small burden. But then people could be deceived, and if ever anyone had hidden depths it was Narcissa Malfoy. The only way she could really settle the question of her character was to know her for herself. And ex-lover aside, that seemed very unlikely, a thought that gave her immense relief. Hermione traipsed into Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, where her sweets earned her a warm welcome, and banished all thoughts of Narcissa Malfoy from her mind.

 

What Hermione hadn’t shared with the paparazzi or Narcissa Malfoy was that she had plans to meet Draco for coffee later that night. They were meeting at the same café where they had shared hot chocolate on their first ‘date’. Hermione had organised the meeting with some reservations. She had considered just saying her piece in a letter, but had decided some things needed to be said face-to-face, no matter how uncomfortable.

He was already seated at a table in the corner when she arrived. Hermione busied herself with removing her coat and draping it on the back of her chair, and then with scanning the very short menu. He watched her intently the entire time. After ordering a special chilli latte to justify her long perusal of the menu, she picked up her satchel off the floor and passed it to Draco. It was an innocuous-looking brown leather satchel, and she was ashamed to say that she had spent an hour trying to pick out the right one at a bag shop.

Draco wasn’t an idiot. ‘I told you, the journals belong to you now,’ he said, without looking in the bag. ‘They’re your legacy from your father.’

Hermione shook her head, smiling. It was amazing the difference a few weeks and a good dose of reading could do. She still wouldn’t call Snape her father, but she didn’t feel as bitter about the connection anymore. The sharp edge had worn off. Reading his words had highlighted both the zealous pursuit of knowledge that they had in common, and also the fundamental differences of personality between them. She felt like she understood his criticism of her academic efforts a bit more. She didn’t agree with them, of course, but she understood that a small portion of it had been from genuine differences in philosophy, not just from spite.

 ‘I’m glad I had the chance to look at them, they were an engrossing read and more than a little inspiring. But they aren’t my legacy. I need to forge my own path, pursue my own projects, not finish Snape’s. I admire his work, but our academic styles clash too much. They should go to someone who can make use of them, turn the theory into practice. I was hoping you would be up for the challenge.’

Draco contemplated her words for a long moment. ‘Are you sure?’ he asked. She could see the eagerness he was holding back, the way his eyes were drawn to the satchel.

‘I’m sure. I have big plans to look for an apprenticeship after I get my N.E.W.Ts results. I need to work from the ground up. But if you ever want some help with any of those journal ideas, I could be persuaded to join in. I flagged a few pages.’

‘Just say the word. I think we could make a great team.’

His smile was a shade too charming for Hermione’s comfort, so she gave him her iciest look. ‘Well, if you mess it up, your name will be on the work, not mine.’

He kept smiling, apparently finding her meanness unconvincing. ‘I’m glad that you found something to work towards. I was concerned before. You never showed much interest in anything beyond the N.E.W.Ts, you seemed to be missing your famous ambition.’

Hermione clenched her fists under the table, and considered throwing it in his face that Luna had said the same thing about him. That Luna had thought he was so pathetic that he needed saving. But Luna had told her that in confidence, in the dark of night. What happens in the tent, stays in the tent.

‘I hear Luna invited you to dinner,’ she said instead, aiming for polite small talk.

‘Yep,’ Draco replied. ‘We’re all very chummy now. The snakes and the ravens and the lions. Like a zoo. It was a good thing Nott was there or I would have been outnumbered.’

‘I wasn’t sure if you two were friendly at Hogwarts,’ Hermione said.

‘We were unfriendly. Your brother thought I was a spoilt idiot, as he so kindly shared with me at dinner. But neither of us is winning popularity contests these days, so I suppose we’ll become allies at least.’

‘Hmm. Well, I should be heading home,’ Hermione said, not wanting to get too deeply drawn into conversation with her ex.

He brushed her hand with his as she stood up. ‘Are you sure? I thought maybe we could hang out some more. Maybe pick up where we left off?’ His eyes were practically smouldering at her.

She stepped back from the table. ‘It doesn’t work like that. I haven’t been sitting around waiting for you to come back. My plans don’t involve you at all, except maybe for some small talk at Luna’s next gathering, and only if every other person in the room is silenced first.’

‘Hermione,’ he pleaded.

‘No,’ she cut him off, holding up her hand. ‘I understood your reasons for ending things between us, but it still hurt. I came here tonight to dispose of Snape’s journals in a sensible way, not to make nice with you. You walked away, and now I’m doing the same.’

After a few steps, she turned back. ‘Oh, and some paparazzi were asking questions about us, so there might be some scandal in the papers. But that doesn’t change a thing.’

She had considered letting him know that Narcissa was aware of their relationship, but she was still mad at him, and the thought of him being ambushed by his mother made her smile a little on her walk to the Apparation point.

 

Hermione had dropped by the pastry shop for the second time today, blessing their late hours. As she walked into Grimmauld Place she yelled ‘free dessert!’ There was a predictable thudding of feet on the stairs as Harry and Ginny raced each other to the kitchen. Ginny had been spending an awful lot of time at Grimmauld Place lately, and Hermione had started to factor her into their grocery shopping. Today, she had bought two chocolate croissants because she knew they were Ginny’s favourite. Harry digged right into his own sweet standing at the bench, a bizarre liquorice twist that made her cringe every time she looked at the oozing black goo. Ginny was more cautious, taking her time to grab a plate from the cupboard and sit down at the table, giving Hermione wary looks, as though she suspected poison but still couldn’t resist the temptation.

She was right to be concerned. Hermione waited until both of their mouths were full before dropping her bombshell. ‘So, I thought I should give you a heads up that the press are about to break the news of my affair with Draco Malfoy. It was over weeks ago, but you know what the press are like, dogs with a bone.’

The looks on their faces were priceless. Harry actually spat out a mouthful of liquorice onto his shirt, and then dropped his glasses as he scrambled to clean it up. Ginny was a little more dignified in her shock, barely stopping in her devouring of her croissant. ‘Really? I had no idea you’d even spoken to Malfoy since the war.’ Munch, munch. ‘I suppose it makes sense though, from hate to love and all of that. Did you have a thing for him back at Hogwarts?’

‘No way,’ Hermione said. ‘I vaguely thought about him the way you consider everyone as a potential boy-like datable person at that age, even the jerks, but he was never my cup of tea. Too whiny. Honestly I think Harry had more chemistry with Malfoy at Hogwarts, all that brooding at each other between insults.’

‘Draco Malfoy!’ Harry shouted wildly, waving his glasses around in his left hand, which fortunately was the hand not covered in liquorice. Hermione couldn’t tell if he was protesting the idea of her romantic affair with Draco, or his own, which had been exactly her intention in baiting him.

‘Well, I suppose if you feel that strongly about Draco I could step aside,’ Ginny told Harry. ‘Who am I to stand in the way of true love?’

‘Me too,’ Hermione said. ‘I’ll waive girl code in this instance. Like I said, my fling with Malfoy is over. He’s all yours.’

Harry grunted incoherently, and stormed off to his room, probably planning to scream in his pillow or vent in a letter to Ron about the torments of women.


	10. The Practice Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luna invites everyone over for a 'practice' ball before a big ministry event, and Hermione takes a big step towards her future.

Hermione smoothed down the skirt of her dress with her hands, contemplating her reflection. It had been a very long time since she had picked out a pretty dress to wear. Back in her Hogwarts days, she hadn’t cared much about clothes on a day-to-day basis. She hadn’t wanted to spare the mental energy on it, as long as she was comfortable and looked reasonably presentable. But when those rare special nights arrived when a dress was called for, she went all in. Hermione wasn’t one to do things halfway. And the end result always gave her a little thrill, like a little girl playing dress up. For tonight, she had picked up a simple satin dress in dusky pink. She and Ginny had found it during a whirlwind shopping spree in Muggle London. She supposed it _was_ a pretty dress, but she felt a weird urge to shove on her jeans underneath it. She felt exposed in a way she never had before. She wasn’t sure if it had something to do with the war and her scars, or the fallout of her own little romantic skirmishes. She didn’t feel like unravelling that mess tonight, so she just breathed and let the anxious feeling settle down to a low buzz. She put on leather boots over her stockings, which helped. After being forced to Apparate and run around in high heels after Fleur’s disastrous wedding, she had a strong aversion to heels. There was only so much that cushioning charms could handle, and she had put up with blisters for weeks. She didn’t anticipate a need for running tonight, but it never hurt to be prepared for anything.

They were off to a party at Longbottom Manor thrown by Luna. There was going to be a fancy ball at the Ministry of Magic in a few weeks, to celebrate their refurbished atrium, with a new memorial for those fallen in the war. Luna had decided they needed some practice before facing the masses, and she had liberally sent out invitations to everyone from the upper years of Hogwarts. Though it seemed a bit silly, Hermione couldn’t argue against Luna’s logic. She was getting better, but it was still a good day when she could walk through Hogsmeade without the urge to draw her wand at a sudden noise. And she was one of the ‘well-adjusted’ ones of their group. Some of the faces she had seen at Hogwarts for the N.E.W.Ts had looked haunted and withdrawn. She had silently vowed to try and do something about that, and here was her chance. She could set a good example, she could whisper a few kind words. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

Hermione arrived early, when only the inhabitants of Longbottom Manor and various Weasleys were around. Hermione had left ahead of Harry and Ginny, as it seemed they were starting their own festivities early and had forgotten to use a silencing charm. She was looking around for Luna when she saw Ron flagging her down. It was her first encounter with him since the news broke of her affair with Malfoy, and she had been dreading a big scene.

‘Will you dance with me?’ Ron asked, as she blinked in shock. ‘I’m a bit rusty, and I could use some practice without witnesses.’

She agreed, and they moved into the adjoining room for privacy. He put an arm on her shoulder and waist, and she gently corrected his posture. She outlined the steps of a waltz for him a few times and then nudged him to try leading. He stared down at his feet for a few seconds, but afterwards he danced quite easily. He seemed to have improved since their last dance about a year ago.

‘So, you and Malfoy,’ Ron said in a casual-not-casual tone.

Hermione sighed. ‘It wasn’t as sordid as the papers made out. And it’s over now. We ended things after the N.E.W.Ts.’

Ron narrowed his eyes. ‘He wasn’t using you for your brain, was he?’

Hermione fought the urge to point out the hypocrisy of that question, bearing in mind that Ron hadn’t once asked for her help with his N.E.W.T studies this time around. ‘No, we never studied together. I did most of my studying with Theodore, Luna and Neville.’

They kept dancing, but from the contortions of Ron’s face she knew he wasn’t finished.

‘Was it like it was with us?’ he blurted out. ‘The fighting and then the making up, blushing and dancing around each other until it all came out with that kiss during the battle…’ He sounded wistful.

‘No,’ Hermione said. ‘It will never be like that with anyone else. We grew up together as best friends, and we spent half of our time racing into danger and the other half hanging out in the common room. That was a pretty unique situation.’

Hermione saw that he was looking away, and she touched his cheek to turn his head towards hers. ‘You were my first love. No one will ever replace you.’

They went back to dancing, and she pretended not to notice that his eyes were a little damp. Hers were too.

Ron stopped moving abruptly. He gestured towards the door. ‘It sounds like the party’s started without us. We should join in.’

‘We should,’ she agreed. Neither of them moved towards the door.

‘Just say the word if you ever need someone to punch that ferret for you. It would be fun. But then we both know you can handle that yourself.’

‘Yes,’ she agreed, with a fond smile for the first and only punch she had ever thrown.

They walked back into the ballroom and split up, going their separate ways. Ron made a beeline for Harry, and Hermione went to catch up with Parvati. Hermione spent ten minutes chatting with Parvati about beauty spells in excruciating detail. She could tell that Parvati was feeling twitchy, so Hermione humoured her despite her intense boredom. Eventually Padma showed up and Parvati let out a visible sigh of relief at the sight of her twin. Hermione was rewarded by the first hug they had ever shared despite spending years as roommates.  Hermione was surprised by the amount of people that wanted to talk with her. She had never been Miss Popular at Hogwarts. But Dean wanted to pour his heart out to her about the way his Muggle mother couldn’t understand what he’d been through in the war. In turn, she had told him that the Grangers had no memory of ever having a daughter. It was painful, but she felt a little lighter afterwards. It seemed she was destined to be a little teary tonight.

She was even approached by a few Slytherins. Marcus Flint had expressed his regrets over Snape’s death with sincerity and she had shaken his hand. Adrian Pucey had wanted an introduction to Kingsley Shacklebolt, and she had brushed him off briskly. The encounters had been about what she had expected. She and Theodore had sat down while he had gone through a long list of Slytherins that might approach her, and how he thought they would treat her. He had been entirely right so far.

She had been surprised to be hugged by a tearful Hufflepuff girl she had no memory of. Hermione hadn’t been able to make out what she was saying between sobs, but the girl had seemed satisfied with a few pats on the back.

Hermione eventually retreated to a corner that was half-hidden by a tall plant, watching the dancers from her hiding place. A few of them had grace, but most of them seemed to have forgotten their Yule Ball lessons. She watched little Dennis Creevey stumble across the floor with a red-headed girl, and wondered if she should offer him some pointers. But then she saw the enchanted smile on his partner’s face, and decided that sometimes grace was overrated.

‘Hermione,’ Draco Malfoy greeted her as he slid up next to her like a ghost. It would have been very dramatic is she hadn’t seen him sneaking over from across the room. She was very attuned to his presence, which somewhat hindered her plans to ignore him.

‘Draco,’ she replied, staring straight ahead.

‘That’s a pretty dress,’ he said with a charming smile.

‘Is it?’ she asked with a frown. Sometimes charm was overrated too.

He was suddenly in front of her, inserting himself into her line of vision. ‘It is,’ he said, his hand reaching out to stroke the fabric near her hip. ‘Feels soft.’

She knew she should walk away but she felt like she was glued to the floor. She made herself shrug her shoulders. ‘It’s nothing special. It was on sale in a low-end dress shop in Muggle London.’ That was the truth. She was a little short on cash these days despite the odd jobs she was doing for George and for Tomes and Scrolls. She had been thrifty with her dress, wanting to save her money for a nice interview outfit for her apprenticeship search.

Draco’s other hand stroked her bare arm, slipping under the shoulder of her cardigan. ‘This is soft too,’ he whispered, leaning in closer.

‘You’re the one going soft,’ she whispered back. ‘Is that all you’ve got?’

‘Not even close,’ was his reply, as he pulled on the fabric at her hip, so that the skirt of the dress started to slide up her leg. He dropped the hand from her shoulder and followed its path.

She put a hand on the back of his head, running her fingers through his hair as she leaned in closer so that their lips almost touched. ‘You’re right. Not even close. Game over.’

She drew her boot up and down his leg with a gentle stroke as his eyelids fluttered shut, and then released him so quickly he almost lost his balance.

‘Goodnight Draco,’ she whispered as she headed for the exit, never looking back. When she made it outside, she stopped and rested her forehead against the cool brick wall, thumping her head against it a few times. ‘No distractions,’ she promised herself.

She lifted her head at the sound of a slow clap. She let it drop again with a sigh at the sight of Pansy Parkinson. ‘What do you want?’ she asked grumpily.

‘Just to congratulate you. That was quite a show. Draco never tried so hard to seduce me, such a lazy boy. He was an awful boyfriend, by the way, very high maintenance.’

‘Well he’s not my boyfriend,’ Hermione said. ‘He never was.’

Pansy arched a carefully manicured eyebrow, and Hermione was reminded eerily of Narcissa Malfoy’s expression the other day. ‘If you say so.’

Hermione waited for her to walk away, but she just stood there looking smug. Hermione decided she had nothing to lose by being the one to leave, and shuffled towards the Apparition point, longing for her bed.

‘Of course, he is an excellent correspondent. Sends timely letters, has lovely handwriting. His style used to be quite formal, but for the last few month it’s been more sentimental. Nostalgia for our childhood friendship. Regret that we drifted apart. He seems to have blossomed like a rose. Perhaps he would be a worthy boyfriend now.’

‘Go ahead,’ Hermione said. ‘I’m sure you’ll make a lovely couple.’

Pansy practically cackled. ‘Oh, not for me. I’m way out of his league. But you seemed to have things under control just now, and our dear boy does need a firm hand. This will make an excellent story for my Best Man speech. I’m sure I can find a dashing tuxedo. I’m a very modern woman now, you know? Paris agreed with me.’

Hermione just stared, speechless. She could handle that sort of talk from Luna, but her mind had just completely short-circuited. Pansy Parkinson. Where on earth had she come from?

‘Well, I’d better go get reacquainted with Draco, and with your dashing brother. Perhaps I’ll even make nice with the host, that Loony girl. She always had such interesting fashion taste. I’m sure we’ll have a chance to catch up properly soon Granger. Perhaps I could invite you over for tea with Narcissa? We’re quite close.’

With that, Pansy entered the party, swinging the doors open dramatically. Hermione cast a light cheering charm on herself to ease her dizziness. She needed a clear head to Apparate home, and she needed her sleep. She had a big day ahead tomorrow.

 

Hermione shared tea with Professor Lilith, and thought about how easy it all was. This, she didn’t need any practice for. She wasn’t being spontaneous or flippant. She had thought long and hard about the kind of mentor she wanted, about the kind of apprentice she wanted to be. She had decided to specialise in Charms and Arithmancy, and had hunted down an expert in both fields. She had read all of her papers and she knew that they would suit each other. There was a time when she might have gone after the surliest academic she could find and spent her time bending over backwards to please them. But now she knew the difference between something being worth doing and something being just plain hard. This apprenticeship would be hard in the right ways, in staying up until midnight working out frustrating Arithmancy calculations, which she was actually looking forward to with glee. She knew that this was right for her. Now she just had to convince Professor Lilith.

‘So your N.E.W.Ts were taken in an unstructured environment, in a compressed timeframe. Do you think that will negatively affect your grades? I really can’t afford to wait two weeks for your results.’ Professor Lilith’s voice was matter-of-fact, not unkind.

‘I work well independently. And I have a letter from the current Headmistress expressing her confidence. She says that she believes I was capable of passing my N.E.W.Ts by my fifth year. Professor McGonagall doesn’t give empty praise.’

‘And you expect good marks?’ Professor Lilith raised an eyebrow.

‘My marks will be excellent. I know the curriculum and the grading criteria well enough to know that I performed well on the tests.’ Hermione leaned forward. ‘There was a time when the thought of those results would have sent me into hysterical panic, but I’ve grown past that. The N.E.W.Ts are important, but they won’t demonstrate even half of my talent. You’ll have to test me for yourself. You won’t be disappointed in me.’ Hermione silently thanked her brother. She never would have been able to deliver such bold lines without his help practicing the right degree of arrogance. On her own, she either would have swung to being overly modest or irritatingly conceited, depending on her mood. But the Slytherin had pronounced her delivery as perfect, and she could feel the rightness of it now.

Professor Lilith smiled. ‘We can start tomorrow. My time is split between London and Paris, my work is very experimental, and I spend half of my time in the field instead of behind a desk. You will need to be prepared for hard work. It will be quite an adventure. Are you ready for that?’

‘I love adventure,’ Hermione promised with a smile.


	11. Pyjama Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione invites Theodore over for a pancake breakfast and a big announcement.

‘Hermione, the door!’ Ginny shouted from the kitchen.

Hermione slid the bookmark back into _A History of Charms Scholarship in Europe_ and placed it on the table. She put on her slippers and made the short shuffle from the library to the front door, opening it as a second round of knocking started.

‘Good morning Theodore,’ she said.

He looked her up and down. ‘Am I too early?’

‘No, right on time. Ginny’s almost finished making the pancakes.’ She gestured for him to come inside.

He hesitated on the threshold. ‘You’re wearing pyjamas.’

She was wearing simple flannelette pants and a grey jumper. No embarrassing cartoon duckies.

Hermione shrugged. ‘It’s a Sunday. Pyjamas are appropriate for a pancake breakfast, they make them taste better. I’m sure Harry can lend you a spare set if you want to see for yourself.’

Theodore rolled his eyes and deigned to enter the house. Theodore was wearing jeans and a collared shirt, looking fully pressed and polished. ‘I’ll pass. This is just way out of my frame of reference.’

They were at the kitchen door, so Ginny must have overheard them. ‘Why, do you sleep naked?’ she called out from the stove. ‘If so, you can sleep over anytime.’

‘Eww,’ Hermione said, swatting her. ‘That’s my brother.’

‘You’re one to talk. I ran into Ronald naked in the hallway once when you were dating. I was scarred for life.’

Ginny was wearing a dressing gown over her nightgown, which was a relief. If Theo thought her pyjamas were inappropriate for breakfast, Ginny’s would give him a heart attack.

‘I wear normal pyjamas,’ Theo insisted. ‘But I never wore them outside of my bedroom. My father would have thought it was slovenly.’

‘Not even when you were little?’ Ginny asked.

‘Nope. Maybe I’ll start with wearing tracksuit pants around the house and work my way up.’

Harry raced into the room as Ginny was plating the last pancake. He had a weird sixth sense for when food was ready. He _was_ wearing pyjamas with cartoon duckies on them, which Theo made a heroic effort to ignore.

Soon they were scoffing down pancakes.

‘So, was there a specific reason for the invitation to the pyjama party?’ Theo asked after he finished his first pancake. Hermione supposed he was also taught not to talk with his mouth full.

Hermione took one more bite of maple-syrup covered bliss before facing the music. ‘There’s something I wanted to tell all of you.’

Harry looked concerned. ‘Who’s dying?’ he asked with a mouth full of pancake. Perhaps Theodore could teach Harry some table manners.

‘Well, I’ll be away to France for a month for the start of this apprenticeship. After that, I’ll be travelling back and forth a fair bit.’

‘We know that already,’ Ginny pointed out.

‘When I get back, I was thinking of finding my own apartment.’

There was shocked silence.

‘Why?’ Harry demanded. ‘You live here. You can stay here as long as you want, we don’t care if you wake us up in the middle of the night coming back from France.’

‘Hermione,’ Ginny asked gently. ‘Wouldn’t it make more sense to stay here while you’re going back and forth so much? An apartment would be empty half the time.’

Hermione shook her head. ‘I’m moving into the next phase of my life, and part of that is making a space of my own. I love living with you guys, but it feels like the right time to take this step.’

‘Let me help,’ Theo said. ‘I have a property in France. It’s not tainted or anything- I bought it myself after the war, just in case things went south here. You should use it.’ That was why Hermione had invited her brother, so she could get that offer and its rejection out of the way. And she had wanted to make him feel included.

‘Thanks, but no. Professor Lilith works out of Beauxbatons in France when the school is closed, so I can crash there. You saw what those girls looked like during the Cup. I’m sure they sleep on beds of daisies and sunshine. I’ll be comfortable there.’

Ginny and Theo went back to their pancakes, accepting her decision, but Harry still looked mutinous. ‘Your place is here,’ he insisted. ‘It’s your home too. It wouldn’t be the same without you.’

Hermione took his hand. ‘Do you know that feeling you get when you visit The Burrow?’

Harry nodded.

‘You and Ginny should really make a home here. Forget the gloomy traditions of the Blacks and go crazy. And when I visit I’ll have that warm and fuzzy feeling, that sense of homecoming. I won’t get the chance to feel that if I stay.’

Harry agreed to accept her decision for now so that they could finish off the rest of the pancakes.

When they were down to two pancakes, the Floo flared up. A boy with bright green hair barrelled out of the fireplace and jumped into Harry’s lap.

‘Where on Earth did you come from Teddy?’ Hermione asked, hands on her hips.

‘Home,’ he said, thumb in his mouth.

‘Does your granny know you’re here?’

The little boy shook his head grabbing a pancake from Harry’s plate and shoving it in his mouth. He was full of energy, practically bouncing up and down, but he wouldn’t answer any more questions.

‘Well, that’s a little precocious,’ Hermione said, gazing at him in wonder.

‘I’ll go over to Andromeda’s and let her know where the little tike ran off to. She must be worried sick.’ Ginny disappeared into the fireplace.

‘His name is Teddy?’ Theodore asked.

‘It’s a nickname. His real name is Edward Lupin. Did anyone ever call you that?’ Hermione asked, a little concerned at the look on his face.

‘No,’ he said. ‘No nicknames for me. But it’s cute. It suits him.’

Theodore was looking entranced by the Teddy. She supposed he wouldn’t have had much exposure to kids. Harry picked up on that, and started encouraging Teddy to talk to Theodore. By the time Andromeda arrived five minutes later, they were already fast friends. She made a mental note to ask Harry to invite Theodore over sometime when he was on babysitting duty.

Hermione smiled. A few months ago she would have worried about leaving her brother alone while she was in France. But he was part of the family now, her crazy family, and he would never be alone. She thought it was more likely they would drive him to insanity with their constant company.

 

Hermione sat by the fireplace in the Beauxbatons quarters she shared with Professor Lilith, reading over the Professor’s notes. The professor had a tendency to scribble things down messily when inspiration struck, but she always organised her notes afterwards, rearranging pages and adding tabs throughout the book. It was kind of fun to put the pieces together, like starting a story in the middle. ‘So this charm you’ve used the blue sticky notes for, it should help ease mental pain and provide clarity of thought?’

‘Yes,’ Professor Lilith said. ‘But it needs some sort of anchor. If the strength of the charm wavers too much or abruptly wears off, it could do more harm than good. I’ve tried varying the wand movements and the strength of voice, but it doesn’t help much. I had to shelve that project for a while.’

The Professor was working on a project for Beauxbatons, which was part of their payment for the office and sleeping quarters. Madame Maxine wanted the sunlight from the windows to coalesce into an image of a Pegasus for their Entrance Hall. Professor Lilith had told her she cared more about her cerebral and practical work, but something had to pay the bills, and it was nice to focus on making something pretty every once in a while. Hermione could relate. She had always liked magic that she could see and touch, liked the warmth of a Bluebell flame or the tweeting of a conjured bird. She had developed a fearsome reputation for the bloodthirsty birds she had conjured with the Avis charm, but when she had cast the spell that night she had only wanted to watch them play, to have some company.

Hermione watched the sunbeams dance through the window. They couldn’t harness solar power for the charm, it would be too reliant on good weather. She tapped her pen against the notebook.

‘You had a thick pile of letters this morning,’ Professor Lilith asked as she rubbed off her chalk Pegasus outline and made some corrections. ‘Anything exciting?’

‘Not really,’ Hermione mumbled, thinking of the envelope that had been delivered by a regal owl that morning. She would recognise Draco’s handwriting anywhere.

Hermione stood up abruptly. ‘The stars,’ she said. ‘Could you anchor the spell with astronomy? Unlike sunlight, the stars are constant, even when we can’t see them.’

The professor held her hand out for the notebook, and then flipped through the pages. ‘And they can be easily mapped by Arithmancy calculations. The intensity of the spell wouldn’t even necessarily be hampered by the skill of the caster. They would just need the right knowledge.’

She beamed at Hermione as she tested out a few calculations on a fresh page. ‘This could really work. People have theorised on the effects of astronomy on spells since the beginning of time, but no-one’s ever really cracked it. We could be the ones! It will take a long time before we know if the theory’s even remotely viable, let alone reach the point of trying it out in practice, but we could start right now!’

When Hermione finally insisted they stop working and go to bed, it was well past midnight. Hermione never thought she would be in that position, but life was full of surprises. Professor Lilith’s overzealous nature sometimes had a mellowing effect on her. It was nice to feel like the reasonable and serene one for once, instead of the manic bookworm. Tomorrow she would probably be back to normal, so she figured she should get some sleep while her mind would let her. But she had thrown Draco’s letter on her bed this morning, and now it was sitting there, taunting her. So much for a good night’s sleep. She reluctantly sat down on the bed and opened the envelope.

 

_Hermione,_

_I’m going to look into developing Snape’s theories on improvements to the Polyjuice Potion. I thought you should be the first to know. I’ve found an expert from America to have a look at it. I’ll have him sign an iron-clad non-disclosure contract, so Snape’s secrets are safe. I’ve attached the brief for the project. If you have any queries or suggestions for the expert, please send them to me by the end of the week._

_Luna sends her love, and apologises that her weekly letter will arrive late. She’s going on some silly expedition to a desert in Egypt to hunt some sort of beast. She left one of her pets in my care. It had an unpronounceable name, but it looks like a furry turtle, and has an odd fetish for cheese._

_I hope you’re having fun in France, and not taking yourself too seriously. It isn’t an apprentice’s job to solve world hunger, but I’m sure you’ll try. If you do, just remember to ask for something in return so you don’t go hungry yourself._

_Speaking of hunger, you may have noticed the chewed-up corner of this letter. A present from Scarface the were-turtle. He and Potter could be twins. They have a very similar odour._

_Regards,  
_ _Draco Malfoy_

 

Hermione laughed. And then she laughed some more, until she was rolling around clutching her stomach. Life was funny. Time had passed, and she had moved miles away, but she could still feel herself falling for Draco Malfoy. She was doomed.

 

Hermione ran her hands over the wall, feeling giddy. The agent had just left after handing her the keys, and now she was alone in her apartment for the first time. Her apartment. She had rented it through a wizarding agency. She would have preferred to rent through the Muggle world to stay off-the-radar, but after the chaos of the last few years, her Muggle identity would really need some work before it stood up to scrutiny. The apartment was empty, but she could feel the potential. It had creamy yellow walls and cherry floorboards throughout, and it already felt much friendlier than Grimmauld Place. There were two bedrooms, one of which she planned to turn into a study. Best of all, it was only a short walk away from Grimmauld Place. With the Floo network and apparition, she would have been moments away if she had moved halfway across London. But it was nice to actually be close to Harry and Ginny in the real world, rather than just having the illusion of closeness through magic. Her own apartment. It almost hurt to leave it, but she would move right in tomorrow once she had the necessities covered. If she had to she would drag out a sleeping bag and sleep on the floor. For now she would go back to Grimmauld Place and share one more night with her friends. Her home would be here waiting for her.


	12. Flootecoote

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Draco confront a dangerous beast together.

Hermione lit the sparkler with a whispered _Incendio_ , and waved it gently back and forth. She took five steps backward, paused to place the sparkler in a metal vase, and then waited. Thirty seconds later a dark shape emerged from behind a bush and darted forward, its features blurred and wispy, like smoke. It was getting faster with every attempt. She stepped in front of the vase, staring it down. She saw its wings start to twitch. ‘Now,’ she whispered, making the agreed upon hand gesture. ‘Now!’

The wings fluttered, and the animal hovered slightly above the ground, becoming more distinct as it gained solidity. It was really quite adorable, but she stood her ground with a determined glare. On her first try she had been disarmed by its cuteness, a dark fluffy little mammal sprouting floppy ears like a bunny, with shimmery golden eyes and wings. She knew better now. The little beast only got in a few flaps before Draco jumped out from behind a tree and somersaulted through the air, tackling the Flootecoote to the ground. It was only the size of his hand, so he was able to pin it down easily with the special fabric designed by his team, a transparent cloth that prevented it from morphing back to its wispy state. Hermione imagined Draco must have taken some sort of lessons to prepare for this. He had some skill on a broom, but she had never imagined he could pull off something like that on the ground- it was a move that would make any gymnast proud. She clapped sarcastically at his dramatics, but inside she was impressed. They had been at this for hours. The tiny critters secreted a substance through their paws that paralysed their prey, and also held the key to developing one of Snape’s ideas for a new pain relief potion. Draco’s team would gently collect some of the gel, then release the Flootecoote back into the inner-city garden where they had found it. For her part in the adventure, Hermione would earn access to any of their research on the Flootecoote venom that was relevant to Professor Lilith’s projects. It seemed almost cruel to leave the Muggles exposed to the Flootecoote’s mischief, but it was their natural habitat, and the Muggles were probably used to tripping over nothing, and finding acorns dropped on their head by mysterious forces. Hermione shook her head as Draco performed a little victory dance, showing a level of glee she had only seen during Quidditch or bowling victories. She turned to douse the sparkler they had used as bait, only to hear a high-pitched shriek. Draco had a Flootecoote clinging to his head, clawing at his face, shifting forms every few seconds so that he couldn’t get a grip on it. It seemed that their quarry had a friend. How very clever. It had stayed hidden for hours whilst they tried to capture its partner, patiently waiting as backup. She had read about their intelligence, but this was impressive. 

Fifteen minutes later, Hermione threatened to use a stunning spell on Draco if he couldn’t hold still long enough for her to heal his scratches. Hermione wasn’t sure if he wanted to supervise the ingredient collection or to take revenge on the Flootecootes. He had certainly grown a lot since third year, when he milked his Hippogriff injuries for all they were worth. She supposed they had both seen enough of real horror and pain to put things in perspective. Hermione kept Draco at wand’s length as she cast her healing spells, strongly resisting the urge to look into his eyes. Eye contact was dangerous, and she wasn’t taking any chances.

‘We make a good team, don’t we?’ Draco asked as she sealed the last cut.

‘We had a common enemy,’ she said.

Draco gave her a look.

‘Ok, yes, we were a good team. But if you’ve decided to start a career as a Flootecoote hunter, you’re on your own.’

After that, they stood around awkwardly as they watched Draco’s team clean up. There had been a few casualties from the chase- bins had been overturned, benches had been crushed. With a little magic the park was spotless again. The Flootecootes were set down within a ward that would deactivate in ten minutes, giving them time to depart safely. The team set about dismantling the larger wards that had shielded the park from prying Muggle eyes, and Hermione decided it was time to depart.

‘Draco,’ she said, holding out her hand.

‘Hermione,’ he said as he shook it. It was a firm, professional handshake.

She stepped back with a silly little wave, and then Apparated away.

 

After arriving at her apartment, Hermione thought hard about her Draco problem while she made herself a cup of tea. It was the first time she had seen Draco in two months. Today had been almost fun. They _did_ make a great team, bouncing ideas off of each other, getting into a collegial spirit. And when their eyes had met after their victory, there had been definite sparks flying. But when it came down to it, they couldn’t talk to each other. They couldn’t have a real conversation, without awkward pauses or someone pulling away. It was odd, because on paper they couldn’t stop talking. She and Malfoy had somehow become pen pals since his opening missive had found her in France. For the last two months they had sent letters back and forth constantly across England and France. She was glad she was living in her own apartment now so she didn’t have to suffer Harry’s commentary on her correspondence. Not that there was really anything to comment on. The letters were the very picture of innocence. Business documents even, a business man informing an interested party on the progress of his research project. Draco had even offered her a cut of the profits from the potions projects in exchange for the journals. His initial offer had been 20%, but she had revised it down to a 10% stake. And yet. The main letters may have been all-business, but the post-scripts were getting longer and longer. That was the space at the end of the letter where they played at being friends. They made small talk, they told jokes, they played with hidden subtext for their passionate longing…  The letters were becoming more and more like old-fashioned love letters, with deeper meanings behind ordinary words. Draco had included a very vivid description of a new potion ladle in his last letter, and she had been convinced it was a bizarre metaphorical seduction technique. Who could really be that passionate about a ladle?

This was ridiculous. Their two worlds needed to collide, and she would force them to with a fiery explosion. She would write the most honest and romantic letter that she could, a real love letter, and she would demand that he show up on her doorstep so they could finally take it all off the page. She stepped into the lounge area to grab a pen and paper.

Hermione let out an undignified shriek and fumbled with her mug, only just saving it from smashing on the floor. She glared at the black owl that was sitting on top of her new sofa, glad that she had picked out the soft suede sofa rather than the leather option. She hadn’t been considering sharp owl talons at the time. She didn’t own an owl yet, as it was only a short walk to a public owlery, and visiting owls were usually polite enough to use the perch she had set by the window. But Malfoy’s owl seemed to find joy in startling her by appearing silently in her apartment and perching wherever he pleased, waiting to be noticed. She didn’t know the owl’s name, but they were very familiar with each other now. How on Earth had the owl gotten here so quickly? She had left Draco’s side less than half an hour ago. And he had already sent her a letter. She had no doubts about its contents. He had beaten her to it. Now when they told this story, Draco would be the romantic one, the one to make the first move. _Her_ letter would have been beautiful, like poetry!

Then Hermione noticed the rose in the owl’s talons. It was clearly made of paper, but it had a red flower and a green stem. The detail was exquisite, the crinkles somehow forming delicate petals and thorns. She hesitated for a moment, stupidly worried about pricking her finger. She took it from the owl’s talons, and turned it over in her hands, marvelling at it. Her curiosity warred with her admiration of the rose, but as ever, her curiosity won. She unravelled the rose gently, and its magic helped her along, smoothing out the edges and flipping over to the white paper on the inside, until she held a sheet of ordinary paper in her hand.

 

_Dear Hermione,_

_If I knock on your door, will you let me in? Say ‘Flootecoote’ for yes._

_Draco Malfoy_

Well, it wasn’t exactly Shakespeare. But the spellwork on the rose was beautiful, and if he had sent her a flowery sonnet she wouldn’t have known how to respond. Now, all she needed to do was say yes.

She closed her eyes. ‘Flootecoote,’ she whispered.

Seconds later she heard the crack of Apparation outside her door. She ran forward and opened the door, not waiting for the knock. Draco looked almost exactly as he had when they parted, with combed hair and a few less wrinkles in his clothing. He held out his hand. ‘A real one this time,’ he said.

She took the red rose, and took a step backwards. ‘I can be bossy,’ she said. ‘And stubborn.‘

He stepped over the threshold, eyes intent on hers, the same way she had stared down the Flootecoote. ‘I can be insecure. And I have a habit of running away.’

She took another step backwards, manoeuvring around the coffee table. ‘Everyone would know this time. You would have to make nice with my friends.’

He followed in her footsteps, stopping at the other side of the table. ‘You would have to deal with my mother.’

Hermione kept walking backwards until she felt the bedroom door at her back, hand on the doorknob. She took a deep breath. ‘It would be real. We would be a real team, a couple. I could fall in love with you.’

‘I could fall in love with you,’ he countered, as he cleared the table, the only obstacle between them.

Hermione swung open the door, and stepped into the bedroom. ‘Did I tell you how sexy your Flootecoote wrangling skills were?’

Draco grinned, and then in a blur she was being tackled onto the bed, and they were rolling around, fighting over whether they wanted to make love on top of the blanket or underneath it. Draco kissed her to shut her up mid-argument, and she decided that perhaps she could surrender just this once. He tasted of apple, and she could picture him stopping for a quick snack as he wrote her a letter. He would need the energy boost. It was their first time having sex on an actual bed, and she found that being warm and comfortable and not having branches digging in to her skin gave her more time to feel, and she wanted to feel everything. She felt the callouses on his hand from roughhousing in the park, she felt the sharp curve of his knee as he used it to pin her down when she became so restless in her frenzied excitement that she almost fell off the bed. She adored the way his lips moved on her neck as he whispered her name, over and over again, as they reached blissful surrender together. When it was over, she laid her head on his chest, and thought about what a nice start this was to their reunion, to the start of their lives together. And then she kicked his shin as she demanded that he share the pillow, because nice was overrated, and they were going to be complicated and messy and competitive and _fun_. In the morning, she was going to get up first and write her spectacular love letter to leave on the pillow she had stolen from him, because she was Hermione Granger and she always had the last word.

 


	13. Cookies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Draco survive their first meet-the-family get togethers with the help of their friends.

Hermione nibbled on one of the dainty sandwiches. ‘These are lovely. Where did you find this bread?’

Narcissa gave her a condescending look. ‘It’s home-made.’

Narcissa didn’t follow up with the usual polite offer to share the recipe, by which Hermione inferred that it was ‘home-made’ by an army of house-elves. Hermione supposed one didn’t mention house-elves in polite company.

Delicious as the sandwiches were, Hermione thought that they should get straight to the point. ‘I suppose you have misgivings about my relationship with Draco, because of my Muggle background.’ Hermione was determined not to let that truth be buried. She might not technically be a Muggle-born, but she was Muggle-raised, and if you believed that magical talent wasn’t determined by blood, it amounted to the same thing.

Narcissa shook her head. ‘You come from a good family; I have no objections to your heritage.’

‘Blood doesn’t make someone family. Lucretia Nott had less influence on me than a random stranger from the street.’

‘I was referring to the Grangers. From what I’ve heard, they were good people, cultured, with respectable professions.’

Hermione was speechless.

‘Sometimes one has to be flexible. I’ve performed some research into the Muggle world, and I found that their society is far more advanced than I was led to believe.’

‘How convenient that your research revealed that now, when it has just become a safe opinion to hold.’

Narcissa stared out the window at her rose garden. ‘When my husband was alive, such a thought was unthinkable. After the things he’d done in the name of his cause, it would have broken him to find that it was a false one. Now Draco can only benefit from the knowledge.’

A wife and mother, holding the opinions that her family’s wellbeing required her to hold, maintaining ignorance for the sake of household peace. Hermione could believe it to be a partial truth, something that fit the old-fashioned notions that still hovered over the Pureblood society.  But as she had noted, it was too convenient. She had the distinct impression that Narcissa Malfoy had never been a subservient little house-wife. And if it _were_ the whole truth, she certainly wouldn’t be sharing it with Hermione. 

‘Why are you being so candid with me?’ Hermione asked as she took another sip of tea.

‘I find that honesty is important when seeking a favour. I needed you to understand my circumstances.’

Now she was confessing to using manipulation, allowing Hermione to pat herself on the back for seeing through it, to let her guard down. Layers and layers of manipulation. It was giving Hermione a headache.

‘I would like to reconcile with my sister Andromeda and meet my great-nephew,’ Narcissa stated calmly. ‘I was hoping that you could help me make amends with her.’

Hermione put down her sandwich and considered her answer carefully. ‘Andromeda knows all about my relationship with Draco from the papers. I see her on a regular basis when I babysit Teddy. I waited to see if she would ask me about him, but she hasn’t. I don’t think Andromeda is ready to talk to you. She lost her husband and her daughter all at once, and you were a part of that. The amount of pain she went through must have been excruciating. Making her face you would be unkind right now.’

‘I see,’ Narcissa said, gripping her teacup tightly.

‘Teddy is Harry’s godson, and he’s like family to me too. Over time, if Draco and I stay together, she’ll get to know him, and there might come a day when things are different.’ Hermione picked up her sandwich and resumed eating, eyes on her plate, to give Narcissa time to process her feelings. When Narcissa did speak, Hermione was shocked.

‘Clever girl. I’d heard that you were fond of blackmail. If I interfere with your relationship with my son, you’ll keep me away from my sister.’

‘No, of course not!’ Hermione insisted. ‘I would never use Andromeda or Teddy like that. I was just stating a plain fact. Time can heal wounds.’

Narcissa clearly didn’t buy her answer. Hermione thought it was time for her emergency back-up plan. She took a pen and paper out of her bag, scribbled a quick note, and sent it through the Floo. Pansy responded to her S.O.S note in a flash, appearing minutes later in the fireplace.

‘Ladies,’ she greeted as she settled in unceremoniously, pouring herself a cup of tea. ‘I heard that you need a translator. I had a handsome beau in France whose one tragic flaw was that he turned out to be a former Gryffindor. Of course I could never settle so low, but I picked up some of the dialect before I broke his heart. I will give you my services for free just this once, because it should be entertaining.’

 

An hour later, Hermione plopped down on her couch and screamed into a pillow.

Draco stroked her hair. ‘That bad, huh?’

She rolled over. ‘It was awful. We were both so tense and paranoid that we twisted everything into an insult. I don’t know how you Slytherins live like that. But I called Pansy for help, and we reached a tentative truce. ‘

‘Good,’ Draco said. ‘I know she can be difficult, but she is my mother.’

Hermione knew that Draco and his mother were extremely close. She would pay Pansy to chaperone next time if that was what it took to keep the peace. Maybe they should keep their relationship to postal correspondence. Then at least there would be some evidence if she had a psychotic break.

‘So, how did your little boy’s night go?’ He had gone out to a pub the night before with Theodore, Harry and Ron. He had crawled into her bed around midnight, and had been snoring away when she left for her tea with his mother.

‘Not bad actually,’ he said with a smug look. ‘Theodore was very civil, probably because he has a solid plan ready to take me down if I ever hurt you.’

Hermione rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t be so dramatic.’

‘I’m not,’ he insisted. ‘It’s a Slytherin thing. And it’s mutual. I came up with some contingency plans of my own when I found out he was your brother. I’m glad things worked out between you, but it could have easily gone another way. It’s just good sense to be prepared.’

‘Did you ever have an emergency take-down plan for me?’ Hermione asked.

Hermione could almost hear crickets chirping.

‘No, really,’ she said. ‘I’m just curious. I won’t hold it against you.’

He gave in with a sigh. ‘No, I didn’t. I could never decide how much of a threat you were back at Hogwarts. Sometimes I thought you were too soft-hearted to worry about. But then I would see or hear about something ruthless you did, to Marietta Edgecombe or Rita Skeeter. You need to understand someone before you can plot their demise. I could never get a proper read on you. And of course I was more focused on Potter. I had endless plans to take him down. And Pansy. Crabbe and Goyle. There was a pretty long list.’

‘Doesn’t that get exhausting?’ Hermione asked. ‘Worrying all the time about which of your friends will betray you?’

‘It felt like a game back then. Now it’s a tool, one I only use when I need it. It’s comforting to know how you’ll respond if the worst happens.’

Hermione couldn’t really argue against that. She had so many escape plans during the war that she could have written a book. And Draco’s childhood had been touched by war from birth. She just hoped that someday she could help him prepare for the best-case scenario instead. She had found that sometimes that could be even scarier.

‘So, how were Harry and Ron last night?’ she asked. ‘Are you BFFs yet?’

‘There were a few snarky comments thrown around, but no brawls. The firewhiskey helped.’

Hermione poked him in the shoulder. ‘More details please.’

‘I think Weasley needs a good rivalry, someone to vent his temper at without feeling guilty. As long as I don’t rile him up too much, we should be OK. Potter’s keeping an open mind because it makes him feel all noble, and because of his godfather’s family. He’ll come around if I’m on my best behaviour. Their instincts are to drive me away, but they both trust your judgement enough to fight their own.’

‘Wow, that was impressive,’ Hermione said. ‘How did you pick up all of that in one drunken night?’

Draco sighed. ‘Fine, I confess. Luna and I dissected the situation before and afterwards. A tiny part of that analysis might have come from her. She helped me side-step some potential mine fields, warned me not to mention Potter’s childhood or Weasley’s old pet rat. She might have played both sides though, because your goons didn’t say anything clumsy or stupid either.’

Hermione laughed. ‘Seems we’re both pretty hopeless at this whole meeting-the-family thing. But it looks like our friends had our backs. What on Earth would we have done without Luna and Pansy? Teamwork all the way. We should bake them some cookies or something.’

‘Mm. And deliver them all to Pansy with a clever note, to show we know they were conspiring together.’

‘You think?’ Hermione asked. ‘Pansy and Luna?’

‘Theodore let slip that they’ve been hanging out. And Pansy’s been a bit too flamboyant in describing her sexual adventures lately. She’s covering up for something.’

‘Pansy and Luna,’ Hermione said again, slowly. She thought her brain might snap. But somehow, there was a rightness to the thought. She would investigate later, but Luna was an excellent judge of character. She thought she might assemble one of those ‘take-down’ plans for Pansy though, just in case. Luna deserved all the love and happiness that the universe and Hermione could muster for her.

She was startled out of her thoughts by a dramatic cough from Draco.

‘Hermione, would you have introduced me to them? The Grangers?’

She felt a pang, as always, but it was getting easier to think about them. She was happy about that- she wanted to think about them, to remember. She felt disloyal for avoiding the memories for so long.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘They would have had reservations, but they’d have liked you in the end. They were open-minded, open-hearted. And my mother always told me to find love that challenged me, not to get too comfortable.’ It was easier to think of the Grangers in the past tense. For her, they were definitively in the past. She had run through all the scenarios in her head, but she had known from the start that she and the Wilkins’ could have no contact, ever.

Draco drummed his fingers against the table. ‘I would never have introduced you to my father as my girlfriend.’

‘Oh,’ she said quietly. She supposed she respected his honesty.

‘If my father were alive, I would never have gone anywhere near you. I wouldn’t have wanted to taint you with that connection. I would rather have been miserable and alone.’

‘I wouldn’t have cared,’ Hermione said. She liked to think she wouldn’t have cared. But deep down she knew there were some lines that were harder to cross than others. Would she have pursued Draco if Bellatrix Lestrange had survived the war? She couldn’t say.

‘I would have cared enough for the both of us.’

Hermione squeezed his hand. ‘Enough of hypotheticals. We’re together now, and that’s all that matters. Let’s bake some cookies.’

 

Hermione rarely cooked. She was busy with her research, and cooking meant not letting herself get distracted. It meant putting away whatever exciting puzzle she was working through in her mind, so that she wouldn’t burn the apartment down. But she also liked to be prepared, so she had a well-stocked pantry, with all of the ingredients for making cookies ready to go. A good preservation spell was a Wizarding chef’s best friend.

She and Draco moved smoothly through the kitchen together as they poured and mixed and stole bites of cookie dough. Draco pressed against her back as he reached for the top cupboard to retrieve the chocolate chips. Hermione brushed his chest with her hand as she reached across the bench for her mixing bowl. It took them forty minutes to mix a few simple ingredients together, and by the time the cookie tray was slid into the oven, they were both very riled up.

Hermione wiped away a smudge of flour from Draco’s nose. ‘Cute,’ she said.

‘I’ll show you cute,’ he growled, lifting her onto the only clean section of counter. 

Their heated kissing was interrupted by a loud chime. Hermione pulled away, despite some strong resistance from Draco’s hands and lips.

‘The cookies,’ she insisted.

‘Let them burn,’ he suggested.

‘And be the witch who couldn’t bake a simple batch of cookies? My culinary reputation can’t take the hit.’

‘It’s already hit rock bottom, according to Potter’s stories. He described your attempt at shepherd’s pie in vivid detail.’

‘I still think that was sabotage,’ she said. ‘Ginny was entirely too cheerful when it burst into flames.’

‘Only because then she couldn’t be forced to eat it.’

She pushed him away and slid off the bench. ‘Well, despite _your_ sabotage attempts, my cookies will be perfect.’

‘Our cookies,’ he said.

‘Oh, are you sure you want to take any credit? I could bring you down with me.’

‘Win or lose, we’re in this together.’

Hermione pulled the tray out of the oven. ‘Well, lucky for you, these cookies look perfect. Just like I said they would.’ The ‘so there’ was only implied.

‘Looks can be deceiving,’ he said with a mocking laugh.

She took advantage of his open mouth to shove a cookie in it. ‘Well?’ she said.

‘Ow, hot!’ he complained, with a wounded look in her direction.

‘You’re the one that said ‘let them burn,’ I assumed you liked them hot. How does it taste?’

‘Delicious,’ he said, with an unflattering amount of surprise. ‘We should keep these for ourselves.’

She shook her head. ‘We can have two each. But the rest are for Pansy and Luna. And one each for Harry and Ginny. I need to spread around the proof of my first cooking success.’

‘ _Our_ success,’ Draco insisted.

‘Fine,’ she said, taking a bite of her own cookie. ‘To teamwork,’ she said, holding her free hand up -for a high-5.

‘To teamwork,’ he agreed, clapping his hand against hers, then using it to tug her in close. ‘Now that the cookies are safe, can we try another kind of teamwork?’

And then her mouth was too busy to confess that she had promised Pansy weekly batches of cookies for the foreseeable future.


	14. Life and Love

Hermione let herself into Draco’s apartment, and took a moment to absorb the pitiful sight before her. Draco was huddled under a wool blanket on his sofa, red-eyed and red-nosed, surrounded by a sea of tissues. She could only describe the look in his eyes as hopeless despair.

‘You’re back early,’ Draco said in a nasally voice. ‘You were supposed to be at Beauxbatons for another week.’

She remained in the doorway with her hands on her hips. ‘Theo told me you were sick. He said you were sending him snot-covered letters demanding he take over for you with the Boomslang project.’

‘My mind is burning with ideas, but I can’t get up from this stupid couch and I can’t write anything longer than a note without my hands shaking. Your brother is impossible. I asked him for one measly favour.’

‘And he delivered. I’ll help you.’ She screwed up her nose in disgust. ‘First, let’s clean up this mess.’ She waved her wand and swept the tissues into the bin, then performed a generic anti-bacterial cleansing spell over the lounge room.

‘I know you know those spells, and you could do them with your hands tied behind your back, so there’s no excuse for living in a pigsty.’ As she reprimanded him, she lifted up the blanket and settled in next to him, leaning her head on his shoulder, then gave him a kiss on the cheek.

‘I suppose,’ he sighed.

‘Now, I’ll help you with your most pressing work now, if you promise to take it easy and sleep all day tomorrow.’

‘Deal,’ Draco said.

Hermione summoned her bag, and pulled out a quill and some paper. She waved her wand and the Quick Quotes Quill hovered over the paper. ‘Dictate any messages you have for your staff, any breakthroughs you need to pass on. Make sure you delegate to someone you trust, because you aren’t setting foot in your office until your fever is down.’

Draco slapped himself in the forehead. ‘I’m such an idiot. Why didn’t I think of that?’

‘If you need any books for light research, make a list and I’ll retrieve them for you tomorrow while you sleep off your bug. Now get started, while you can still think clearly.’

Draco hugged her around the blanket. ‘Thank you. This might get boring. You don’t have to stick around if you have some place else to be.’

Hermione rolled her eyes. ‘Potions research? Committee organisation? Bossing people around? How could I possibly find that boring? You’re stuck with me.’

‘You’re the best girlfriend ever,’ Draco declared.

‘I know,’ Hermione said, and then closed her eyes, falling asleep to the gentle sound of Draco’s dictation. The Portkeys from France always left her feeling drowsy.

* * *

 

Hermione stomped out of the Floo and through the Grimmauld Place kitchen, making a beeline for the jar where Ginny kept the cookies. She and Ginny had started a cookie-making war. One of the terms of the war were that they could lay claim to any cookies left in their respective cookie jars at any time of the day. Her hand came out of the jar empty.

‘Ginny! Where are the cookies?’ Hermione screeched.

She heard a lazy yell from upstairs, so she headed in that direction. She saw a light on in the spare room that had previously belonged to Buckbeack. When she walked through the door, she halted mid-step, gaping at the spectacle before her.

Ginny and Pansy were wearing plastic ponchos and goggles, and holding balloons in their hands. The wall and floor were splattered with paint in garish colours, with no artistic merit whatsoever. Hermione was distracted from her cookie craving. When her mind had absorbed the whole ridiculous picture, she burst out laughing.

‘Decided to redecorate?’ Hermione asked when she caught her breath.

‘Exercising my imagination,’ Ginny replied airily. ‘I’m pretending it’s Harry’s head.’ She gestured towards the shape attached to the wall, obscured mostly by red paint.

If Hermione squinted, she thought she could almost see a scar on its forehead.

‘Hmm. I could use some target practice as well.’ She stepped forward, grabbed a balloon, and threw it towards the dummy with all her strength. It made a very satisfying splat, and started leaking green goo, but her aim was way off. She had missed the dummy by a mile.

‘No magic?’ Hermione asked, thinking that her aim would be better with a wand than her coordinationally challenged hands.

‘No magic,’ Pansy insisted. ‘We had a little incident earlier. She almost blew my head off when her spell went awry.’

Hermione turned to Ginny. ‘Well, what did Harry do to inspire this masterpiece?’

Ginny threw another balloon, which landed right where the dummy’s eyes would have been. ‘He asked if I was moody because I was pregnant. Can you believe that? Like I’m some hormonal twit. Can’t a girl just be a little grumpy sometimes?

‘Are you pregnant?’ Hermione asked.

‘Yes, but that’s completely besides the point! I’m not crazy! I’m. Completely. Calm.’ Her rapid throws contradicted that declaration.

Pansy stepped back out of the splatter zone as Ginny’s throws started to go wild, but Hermione leaned in for a hug, ignoring the balloon that burst in between them, splattering her jumper with red paint. ‘A baby! I’m so happy for you! Or are we not happy?’

‘We’re very happy!’ Ginny said, reaching for another balloon to throw. ‘The baby’s daddy is just an idiot!’

 Ginny shot the balloon over Hermione’s head, missing her by an inch.

Hermione decided to leave Ginny to it. She stepped back to join Pansy.  ‘Did you have some anger to vent as well?’

‘Nope. I’m totally zen these days. Luna and I give each other space, we don’t walk around attached at the hip. It keeps things lively and fun. She just asked me to pick up some books from the Grimmauld library for an article.’

Hermione raised her eyebrow, wondering when Pansy Parkinson had started running errands.

‘I wasn’t going to pass off the opportunity to snoop around the golden boy’s house. And lo and behold, I stumbled across this. Luna certainly has the weirdest friends. It’s doing wonders for my gossip pool.’

Hermione considered Pansy’s words. Space. She didn’t _want_ space. She loved Draco, and she wanted to be as close to him as she could get. So why was she picking ridiculous fights and storming off? After all this time she was still running. She needed to stop.

Hermione turned around as the door slammed open.

‘Ginny?’ Harry called out, as he entered the room with his hands up in surrender. ‘I’m sorry. I love you and I love our baby. You’re completely sane and even-tempered and beautiful. Can you forgive me?’

Hermione was utterly shocked. That speech felt unreal coming from Harry Potter, of the scarred and loveless childhood, of the martyr complex and the boyish stupidity. But his eyes showed complete sincerity. Her best friend had come such a long way, it actually brought tears to her eyes.  She looked at Ginny.

Ginny gave him an angelic smile. Then she waved her wand, and a kaleidoscope of paint stripped off the walls, and floated in the air, swirling around and around like a rainbow. With another flick, all of the paint was dumped over Harry Potter’s head.

‘You’re forgiven,’ Ginny said, taking off her poncho and skipping out of the room. ‘Hermione, are you coming? I found a recipe for Jaffa cookies yesterday.’

* * *

 

Hermione walked into her apartment to find Draco reading a Potions journal on her couch.

‘How are Scarhead and Weaslette?’

‘Good,’ Hermione said, thinking that it was true, in their own bizarre way. ‘How do you feel about Chinese for dinner?’

‘With extra dumplings,’ Draco said.

Hermione rummaged through a draw for the take-out menu, then turned back to Draco. ‘We should move in together,’ she said.

‘I agree.’

‘I know I’m in Paris every other week anyway, but I just think it would be nice to…’

She halted her pre-rehearsed speech. ‘You do?’

‘Yes. Why not? We’re both busy people, but we love each other, so we should spend every moment we can together.’ His words were simple, honest. It was the second time she had been surprised by a man today.

She joined him on the couch, curling her feet underneath her. ‘Which apartment?’

‘Yours. It’s nicer, in a better location.’

Both of those things were untrue. ‘You just want to be close to Harry so you can have bromance sessions whenever you want.’

‘Yes,’ he said with a straight face. ‘That’s exactly what I want.’

She kissed him, practically crawling into his lap in the process. ‘Thank you. I know they’re annoying, but they’re family.’

‘That’s true of every single person we know, from Longbottom to Pansy. But if I lived this close to Pansy I think I’d go insane.’

Hermione laughed. ‘Well, at least Ginny comes with cookies. There’s  a box of them in the kitchen. But wait until after dinner.’

She started to get up so she could pick up the phone, but Draco tugged her back down with his arms around her waist.

‘Does this mean I’m forgiven for using a dusting spell on your book?’

Hermione kissed him again. ‘Never. It was reckless. You don’t use magic on books older than a decade. Especially not that book. It’s the pivotal study on Charms pronunciation. I think I love that book more than you.’

On that note, she disengaged and went off to order their dinner. Then they settled in for a night of domestic bliss. Draco’s transgression was never forgiven.


	15. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sunday lunch at the Potters.

_Epilogue (one year later)_

Hermione leaned back against the Headmistress’ desk, crossing her legs. The informality of the gesture made her feel itchy, but she needed to establish the right tone. She wasn’t a student anymore. ‘Hello Professor Snape.’

 ‘Miss Granger,’ he said with a nod. ‘Are you here to brag about winning the Halliday Charms Prize?’

‘Oh, no,’ she said with a laugh. ‘I’ve only been nominated. The ceremony isn’t for another two weeks. That isn’t why I’m here.’

She and the Portrait Snape stared at each other for a few moments, neither wanting to speak first. In the end, Hermione gave in. His mouth was only painted on after all. ‘I wanted to share some other news. I’m pregnant.’

‘What a rare achievement.’

Hermione ignored the sarcasm. She had been braced for it. Her own weapon was much pointier. Sympathy.  ‘I don’t know whether it ever bothered you. To not have any family. But this baby will have a big one. ‘

She could sense another biting comment on its way, so she forged on with her speech before he could release it. ‘You wanted fame and wealth. And Draco’s accomplishing that with your journals. Princely Potions is the number one potions development company in London right now. I’m sure _he_ has stopped by to brag. But I think that this is the bigger legacy, _common_ achievement though it might be. And I thought you should know about it.’

He didn’t reply, and his face was a blank wall. She had expected that. Part of her preparation for this meeting was coming to terms with the fact that Snape probably wouldn’t give her what she wanted. It wasn’t in his nature as a man, and as a portrait perhaps he was incapable of it. But she needed to say her piece, for herself.

‘One day, a little girl will walk into this room. With Draco and I as parents, it’s inevitable that she ends up here, probably on her first day at Hogwarts. She’ll see your portrait and know you as her grandfather Snape. I know that day will be hard for you, so I’m giving you over a decade of warning. Try not to be too scary. Draco is certain she’ll be a Slytherin, so she might not have that famous Gryffindor bravery.’

Hermione ruffled through her bag for a manila folder, just like the one she had given Theodore on the day she had told him she was his sister. She liked to recycle them, so perhaps it was even the same one. She placed it on Professor McGonagall’s desk.

‘This is my paper that was nominated for the Halliday Prize. I’ve included all my notes and research, all the extra stuff I couldn’t squeeze into the word limit. Professor McGonagall will read it to you if you ask. I know you didn’t exactly love teaching, but I’m sure there’s a part of you that really misses marking essays, tearing them to shreds.’

‘I will ask her,’ he said plainly, without a snarky comment.

Hermione smiled. It was like an involuntary reflex. She felt a little bit of triumph. It was such a small thing, but coming from Snape it was everything. She gave an awkward wave at the portrait, and then admonished herself for ruining the cool image she was trying to project. ‘Well, goodbye. I’m late for Sunday lunch at the Potters.’

She couldn’t resist one last look as she walked out the door. Portrait Snape was regal and gloomy, like a sullen prince on an uncomfortable throne. But his eyes were glued to the folder on the desk, and for a moment she thought she detected something a little like pride, pride for his daughter. She shook her head. It was just a portrait.

 

Hermione stumbled out of the elevator and then leaned her forehead against the stone wall straight ahead. She breathed in and out deeply, trying to calm her thoughts. ‘Thank you for coming. For letting me do this alone, but not alone.’

Theodore stood next to her, and placed a warm hand on her shoulder. ‘I don’t think either of us will be alone again, no matter how hard we try. I don’t know yet whether to curse you or thank you for that.’

Hermione laughed shakily. ‘Our circle has gotten pretty big these days. And to think I once thought Harry and Ron were too much to handle.’

‘They are,’ Theodore said. ‘But now you have more sane people around to help you manage them. Saneish. I think Longbottom’s the closest one to normal, but even he talks to plants. What on Earth have you gotten me into?’

‘Family,’ Hermione said. ‘The real kind. The best kind.’

‘Speaking of,’ Theodore began with a sideways glance. ‘How did it go with the bat?’

Hermione straightened up to give him a startled look. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever heard a Slytherin call him that before.’

Theodore winced. ‘I thought it might cheer you up. But now I feel like I’m going to be smited or something. We all did really respect him, in spite of his quirks.’

Hermione smiled. ‘I always used to remind Harry and Ron to call him _Professor_ Snape.’

‘So? Are you going to keep avoiding the question?’

‘It went better than I expected. He was interested in the paper. And there might have been just a smidgeon of sentimentality in all that paint.’

‘And how do you feel about it?’

‘Terrified. I thought I was closing a door, but now I feel like I’ve just opened one.’

‘Will you go back?’

Hermione sighed. ‘Some day, maybe. Once I’ve recovered from this little chat. I can’t form a relationship with a portrait, even if I wanted to. He isn’t real. But there is something there. And my damned curiosity will eat at me if I don’t find out what it is.’

‘The theory on magical portraits is woefully incomplete. Just the sort of thing for an ambitious up-and-coming Charms research fellow to stake her career on.’

Hermione shrugged. ‘There are lots of portraits out there. I wouldn’t need his for that.’

Theodore gave her a knowing look. ‘Do you really think that you, Hermione Granger, are going to be able to pass up an opportunity to unravel the mystery of Severus Snape?’

She gave him a weak shove. ‘Well, I suppose it worked out well enough the last time.’

* * *

 

Hermione watched with a smile as little James Potter rolled over on the picnic blanket. Ron leaned forward to tickle his tummy, making ridiculous cooing noises. She signalled to Luna, who snuck over from the other side of the yard and snapped a picture with her camera. Luna had decided to take up photography as a hobby. Her photographs leaned towards the abstract. It actually put her subjects at ease. Many of the war survivors were still camera-shy, but when the end photo was likely to be blurry with the subject overshadowed by a passing bird, they decided to let Luna have her fun. Hermione suspected that for every abstract photograph Luna collected, she had two more that were clear as day.

Harry plopped down next to Hermione, passing her a plate of danishes. ‘Courtesy of Narcissa Malfoy’, he said.

Hermione barely had a chance to grab one before Ron snatched the plate out of her hand.

‘These are the best,’ he mumbled, crumbs spilling everywhere. ‘Don’t tell Mum I said that.’

Hermione sighed. ‘How long do you think we can hold out before we start inviting her? She sends something more elaborate each week. And Draco tells me she’s been baking these herself. In an actual apron.’

Harry gestured over to where Andromeda was trying to clean up Teddy, who was covered in either mud or chocolate. ‘Andromeda said to give it two more weeks. She thinks if we wait Narcissa might step up to pies. There was an old family recipe for blackberry pie that she wants to get her hands on.’

Harry took out a notebook and pen and started to scribble.

‘Harry,’ Ron asked slowly. ‘Is that a book?’ He backed away slightly, as though he thought Harry was contagious.

‘A journal,’ Harry said, his face turning red. ‘For James. I wish I’d had something more from my parents, some of their old stories and adventures. If anything happens, I want James to know about the time we fought a troll in a bathroom, and about the Sunday lunches we used to have. I want him to know where he comes from.’

Hermione put her hand on his. ‘Harry, that’s really sweet, and I’m sure James will love it. But he won’t need a replacement for you, because _you will be there_. I promise. James will grow up with a mum and dad who love him, even if I have to move Heaven and Earth to make it happen. And there will be _no_ excuses for getting out of Sunday lunch, so James will experience plenty of those first hand.’

Hermione tried to sneak a peek at the journal, but Harry shifted it behind his back. ‘And you should include the story of how we saved Buckbeak.’

Ron punched Harry in the arm. ‘I would listen to her mate. You know how scary ‘Mione can get when she’s angry. I guess we’ll just have to suffer through this mountain of food every week. James here can help us out. He seems to take after me in the stomach. He’s a magnet for food.’

‘More like a magnet for trouble. Like father like son. I’m going to spend the next eighteen years worried sick aren’t I?’

Hermione casually picked at some blades of grass. ‘Well, I suppose my daughter will be the same way. They could get into trouble together, if James can keep up with her. Adventures are always more fun with friends. Even if they are silly boys.’

Harry and Ron gaped at her. ‘Really?’

She nodded. ‘But don’t make a big deal out of it, because I swore I wouldn’t cry today. If Snape couldn’t break me down, then this certainly won’t.’

After a few moments of suspicious sniffling, Ron left with the excuse that James was hungry, taking the baby with him.

Hermione leaned her head on Harry’s shoulder, making a failed attempt to grab the journal.  Harry’s Quidditch reflexes thwarted her plan.  ‘I just wanted to see some of your fatherly wisdom. You’re the expert on parenthood now, and I’ll need all the help I can get. But if you or Draco put my daughter on a broom before I say so, I will hex you so hard you’ll land on the moon.’

Hermione stood next to Pansy, watching as Luna entertained Teddy with a flute that shot out colourful sparks. They swirled into the shapes of strange creatures, dancing to the music. Luna had no sense of tune, but she made up for it with rampant enthusiasm, and Teddy seemed happy.

Hermione thought Pansy had gestured for her to come over, but she hadn’t spoken a word, so perhaps she had just been stretching. After a few minutes, Hermione decided to grab something to eat from the buffet table. Pansy grasped her arm to stop her.

‘So, I’ve been working with these kids,’ Pansy said. ‘Kids with shitty parents or no parents, finding them homes or a box of tissues or whatever.’

Hermione glanced at her in surprise. It sounded like something Pansy had been involved in for a while, but this was the first she had heard of it. Slytherins and their secrets. Pansy had never mentioned her parents, but Hermione had gotten the impression from Draco that they could win an award for ‘shitty parents’.

‘I’m not doing it for sappy reasons,’ Pansy said quickly, misinterpreting Hermione’s surprise. ‘It’s a good networking opportunity. Orphans can turn into influential people. Look at Potter.’

‘I think that’s great Pansy,’ Hermione said. ‘For your social climbing. Sounds like a solid scheme.’

Pansy stared at her fingernails. ‘Anyway, there’s this little girl living with Muggles. Nine years old, and she just found out her biological parents were wizards. They sent her away as a baby because they thought she was a squib. Now that she’s showing signs of magic, they want her back.’

‘Can they do that?’

‘Not a chance in hell. I have an army of lawyers and politicians in my pocket, and they’ll make sure the wizarding parents leave the kid alone unless she wants to see them. ’

‘Well, it sounds like you have it covered. But if you need any help, I’m here.’

Pansy finally stopped avoiding eye contact. ‘That’s the thing. I thought maybe you could talk to the kid. Help with all the touchy-feely stuff. Give her your perspective.’

‘Oh,’ Hermione said. She only took a few bars of Luna’s melody to think it through. One, two years ago she would have said no. She had been bitter and confused about her own messed-up situation, and the idea of helping anyone go through that would have been laughable. It would have felt like rubbing salt in her wounds. But now she had made it through the storm, and the other side actually looked pretty bright. She knew exactly who she was now. She was Hermione Granger. She was the daughter of the Grangers, but also the daughter of two shadowy figures that she would never know. Even though they weren’t around, they were all still with her in their own ways.

‘Yes,’ Hermione said. ‘I’ll help the girl. And any others you want to send my way.’

Pansy let out an almost inaudible sigh of relief. ‘Of course you will. You’re a bleeding-heart lion. Like taking candy from a baby. I won’t pay you anything, by the way. And I still get all the PR credit.’

They both jumped when Luna popped up between them. They hadn’t even noticed when the music stopped. ‘Hermione, would you like a batch of my chilli brownies? Ginny ate a truckful when she was pregnant. The chilli wards off Flumdingers, creatures that amplify anger.’

Hermione wondered whether Ginny had actually eaten the brownies or discreetly thrown them away. Ginny had a powerful temper during her pregnancy. Harry had spent a lot of time hiding from her wrath in her apartment.

‘Luna,’ she said. ‘Draco and I wanted to ask you something. Will you be the godmother of our baby?’

Luna dropped her flute. It was the first time Hermione had seen her surprised. She was usually either ten steps ahead of everyone else, or really good at bluffing.

‘Really? Me?’

‘You _see_ more than anyone else I know, and somehow you have a big enough heart to fit all of it in. I have no idea what kind of person she’ll turn out to be, but if she’s even the tiniest bit like you, we would be really proud.’

Luna gave her a bone-crushing hug. She was surprisingly strong for someone who looked so delicate.  ‘I have so many adventures to plan for her. The fun kind, not the scary kind.’

Hermione disengaged from the hug. ‘It was really early to ask, but you know how I like to plan things. You have some time before your godmotherly duties begin.’

Luna smiled. ‘Our friendship is never off-duty. If you head towards the gardening shed, I think you’ll find Draco. I’ll cast a Muffliato charm.’

Hermione shook her head at Luna’s implication and the innuendo Pansy called after her, but didn’t bother protesting about the charm. It would come in handy.

* * *

 

She found Draco leaning against the shed. It was half-hidden by a big tree, so she didn’t see him until she peered around the corner of the shed.

‘What are you doing hiding back here? Up to no good?’

‘Luna sent me here ten minutes ago. Told me to look for some kind of weird purple mushroom, but there’s nothing here. I think she was just messing with me.’

‘Oh, what a shame,’ Hermione said, stepping in close and running her fingers up and down his chest. ‘What other possible use could we find for a place like this?’

Draco took a step backwards, holding out a hand as though to ward her off.  ‘I object to his bold attack on my virtue.’

‘Virtue?’ she choked out with a laugh.

‘Yes, virtue.  I want a proper courtship. Flowers, compliments, an elegant ceremony with legally binding documents…’

Hermione gave him an incredulous look. ‘Draco, we’re having a baby in eight months. And you want to get married? Now?’

‘Well, not right now. I imagine you might want a few months to do some research. I bought an interesting little book on European wedding rituals. It has primary sources and twenty pages of references…’

‘You devious snake. You know that I can’t resist reading a good book.’

‘And once you read about the rituals, how could you resist trying them out? In your entry for the Halliday prize you said that ideas should be seen through to the end, that there is a bridge between theory and practice that must be constructed of solid foundations…’

‘Shut up,’ she said, elbowing him in the stomach. ‘I’ll marry you.’

He kissed her with enough force that her back hit the shed hard. Within seconds his hands were trying to unbutton her shirt.

‘Uh uh,’ she said, holding his hands in place. ‘What about your precious virtue?’

‘I’m a Slytherin. I have no virtue.’

She kissed him again, enjoying the way the sun warmed his lips. She kept an iron grip on his wandering hands, and soon he was agreeing to everything from cooking dinner to wearing a wreath of lilies at the wedding. They boosted the strength of the binding spell, or so she had read in the book she had discovered in the cupboard last week. His look of surprise when she told him that was so adorable, that she finally gave into his begging and released his hands.

She was braced for his revenge, but instead he just brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes, and whispered about all of his plans for their beautiful life together between soft kisses. She melted under the sunlight and his passion, and by the time they heard Molly calling that the roast was ready, she felt like she could float away on the summer breeze.

Hermione told Draco to go ahead without her, as she wanted a moment to compose herself. He just smiled smugly, and walked off whistling a jaunty tune. He was as tone-deaf as Luna.

Hermione moved over to the tree and leaned back against it as she watched everyone bustle around the roast. She put her hands over her stomach, imagining that the sun felt just a little bit brighter as she did. ‘So, alone at last. Sometimes a girl just needs a minute to herself. You’ll learn that soon enough.’

Hermione watched as Molly scolded George for some silly prank on Percy, while the remaining Weasleys made faces at him behind her back. Theodore was flirting with Parvati. Since being named Bachelor of the Month by _Witch Weekly_ , he had started flirting with anything that moved. Last week it had been Blaise Zabini. Hermione just shook her head, and tried to convince herself to stay out of her brother’s love life. Pansy was sneaking Teddy a slice of cake, while Ginny tried to wake up a sleepy James for a more wholesome lunch. Luna and Neville were talking quietly in a corner. Neville had a guilty look on his face, which meant that Luna was trying to convince him to take part in a crazy scheme. Harry, Draco and Ron practically inhaled their food, and then took off on their brooms in a race.

Hermione stroked her stomach. ‘You have one crazy family, kid. I hope you love them all as much as I do.’ 

Hermione walked forward to join the party with a smile on her face.


End file.
